THE 

RAILROAD 

OF 

LOYE 



A COMEDY IN /FOUR ACTS 

{From the German of SchcentJian and Kaddburg) 



AUGUSTIN DALY 



" D£C2^i387vS 



Acted for the First Time at Daly's Theatre, New York, 
Tuesday, November 1, 1887 



PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR 
AS MANUSCRIPT ONLY 



Copyright, 1887. 



TROWS 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY. 
NEW YORK 



CAST OF THE ORIGINAL PRODUCTION AT 
DALY'S THEATRE. 



General Everett, U.S. A Mr. Charles Fisher. 

Lieutenant Howell Everett, U.S.A., with an unblemished 

record and a Mislaid Heart Mr. John Drew. 

Phenix Scuttleby, a polished relic of Wasted Energies, 

Mr. James Lewis. 

Adam Grinnidge, Victim of the misapplied attentions of the 

Polished Relic Mr. George Clarke. 

Judge Van Ryker, not half a bad sort of parent, and an ex- 
cellent judge — of Latour, '70 Mr. Charles Leclercq. 

Benny Demaresq, condemned by the Judge, and waiting sen- 
tence from the Judge's Daughter Mr. Otis Skinner. 

Truffles, the Judge's Butler . , Mr. E. P. Wilks. 

Crusty, Mrs. Osprey's Footman Mr. E. Ireton. 

Tom, the General's Body-servant. Mr. John Wood. 

Guests, Officers, Masqueraders, etc. 

Valentine Osprey, otherwise "Cousin Val," a Goldfish for 
whom many are angling — and discoverer and explorer of the 
Mislaid Heart Miss Ada Rehan. 

Viva Van Biker, another little Goldfish, who is hooked by the 

first Amateur Angler Miss Phoebe Russell. 

Mrs. Eutycia Lablrnam, Goldfish of much larger experience — 

not to be caught on the fly Mrs. G. H. Gilbert. 

Cherry, Cousin Val's Maid . Miss Evelina Cooke. 

Act 1. — At the Van Ryker Mansion, during the progress of a 

Costume Ball " Stopping on Signal ! " 

Act 2.— After the Ball. Morning! "An Open Switch!" 

Act 3. — Cousin Val's Morning-Room. The following afternoon. 

" Limited Express ! " 
Act 4. — Library at General Everett's. Same evening. 

' ' Way Accommodation ! " 



ACT I. 



Scene. — Parlor and Conservatory at Judge Van Ryker's, 
brilliantly lighted for a costume ball, which is in progress 
as the play opens. Large opening at back, leading into 
Conservatory. Window at l. c. Entrance at r. A tete- 
a-tete down l. Piano and small sofa down r. 

The curtain rises upon the last fgnre of a Lancers, 
in the front set of which are Lieutenant Everett and 
Viva. Some of the guests are in military costume. 
Many are in fancy costume, mainly Elizabethan ; others 
are in full evening dress. General Everett is seated 
at the l. icith Judge Van Ryker, and tico officers. 
Grinnidge, in eveni?ig dress, toith two ladies. The dance 
ends, and with a buzz of conversation the couples retire 
up a, and off r., and l. 

Viva. [ Coming fonoard with Howell.] What a pity it's 
over so soon ! 

Howell. No one regrets it more than I do. May I have the 
waltz after supper ? 

Viva. [Feigning surprise."] Why, Lieutenant Everett, 
what are you thinking of ? My card is filled up — don't you 
know ? [Shows it — as Truffles, who has entered at close of 
the dance and has been handing a. tray of bouillon among the 
guests, advances and offers a cup to Howell.] 

Truffles. Bouillon, sir? 

How. Thanks — not any. [Viva also declines?^ Couldn't 
you manage to give me one little extra tour for each dance ? 

Viva. We'll see about it. [ Crosses to Judge, ivho rises and 
meets her.] Oh, papa, I'm having such a nice time. 

Judge. I should think so — with such a partner. 

How. Oh, I beg 

Judge. [Advances to Howell.] No, but really, lieutenant, 
you dance just as I used to when I was young ; only, of 
course, with a more military air. [Howell goes up. Judge 
Van Ryker turns to the General, who has been joined by 
two officers.] Ah, gentlemen, hope you are enjoying your- 
selves. [Viva slips away unperceived, and steals up r. and 
looks into the conservatory furtively. The Judge continues, 



6 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



going to the General.] General, come with me [confiden- 
tially to him and the others], I've got a private battery set up 
for you military heroes. Kegular heavy guns ! " Lafitte," 
"Latour '70," and a Madeira as old as your grandfather! 
Let's storm it, eh ? Come along ! [Slips an arm into that of 
each officer and takes them off, r. C.J 

General. I'll join you later. [lb Howell, who comes for- 
icard, R.] I say, my boy, aren't you rather too discriminating in 
your attentions ? You appear to be dancing with one young 
lady every time. 

How. Why, sir, you always said one couldn't dance too 
often with a pretty girl. And she is pretty — isn't she ? 

Gen. Stuff, sir ! What does a mere boy like you know 
about beauty ? A man can't distinguish a really pretty woman 
until he knows good wine from bad, and he has to be a general 
to understand that. 

How. If that is the case, sir, I feel qualified to take com- 
mand of a brigade at once. 

Gen. [Good-humor edly.] Impudent puppy ! [Affection- 
ately putting his arms about his son's neck.] Well, go on ; 
but don't forget our bargain. You are to come and tell me 
when you fall in love. 

How. Certainly, governor ! But 1 hate to be running to 
you every minute. 

Gen. Scamp ! But I mean when it is really serious. 

How. Serious ! Oh, I won't trouble you for years. [Truf- 
fles comes down with tray of refreshments.] 

Truff. [To General.] Ice, sir ! 

Gen. Thanks, no. [Goes up with Howell. Truffles 
goes to others.] 

Benny enters from l., sulkily. 

Benny. I'm tired of this business. If I can pick out im- 
modest civilian's hat and umbrella from among all these mas- 
querade gimcracks and military accoutrements I'll vanish. 
[Viva sees him, and runs down,] 

Viva. Oh, Benny ! where have you been ? Have you 
just come ? 

Ben. Just come! I'm just going. [Crosses, l.] I've 
been here two hours watching you dance with the whole 
United States Army. 

I iva. You are not angry at that ? 

Ben. Oh no, I'm not at all angry. Only understand, I'm 
glad our army's no larger. I'm not in favor, for one, of in- 
creasing our land-forces. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



7 



Viva. You unpatriotic creature ! Don't you feel the 
glorious spirit of the scene ? [ Crosses, l.] You — a painter ! 
These gorgeous dresses, these elegant uniforms, and the manly 
fellows who wear 'em ! 

Ben. I think a ball where an individual in a mere evening 
dress-suit has some chance of a dance much more inspiriting. 

Viva. How unjust you are ! After my entreating papa 
to send you an invitation, too ; and after my begging him to 
keep a look-out for you all the evening. 

Ben. [Relenting. ~] Did you ? 

Viva. [Still pouting.] And who's been straining her eyes 
and craning her neck up there to try and find you ? I have ! 
Ben. [Overjoyed.] Have you really ? 

Viva. And who's to dance the next waltz with you ? I 
am ! 

Ben. [Alarmed.] No ! 
Viva. What ? No ? 

Ben. [Sulkily.] You know I can't waltz. 

Viva. That's a fact. [Considts her card.] What can I 
do for you ? Let me see. 

Ben. [Looks over card toith her.] Why, your card is a 
regular military register. Nothing but lieutenants, and gen- 
erals, and dukes, and marquises. 

Viva. [Severely, shutting card.] Are you going to begin 
again ? It's plain enough you want to quarrel with me, so as 
to get out of dancing altogether. 

Ben. No — I do want to dance, but I'd rather talk to you. 
I've got so much to say, and when I see all these gold-lace 
fellows taking up the precious time you might be giving to 
me 

Viva. Talk now ! I'm listening. 

Ben. I can't, here, in this ball-room, with everybody pop- 
ping in and out. 

Viva. That's only an excuse. Yesterday, when I gave 
you a sitting for my portrait, you had an excellent opportu- 
nity ; we were alone for a whole quarter of an hour, and you 
talked of nothing but antiquities. 

Ben. I was leading up to what I wanted to say. I in- 
tended to touch lightly on Phidias and the new-found Hermes 
of Praxiteles, and to pass on to — to — [loses the thread of his 
discourse] — to Phidias — Praxiteles — Hermes 

Viva. [Impatiently.] Well ? 

Ben. [Confused.] I forgot what — that is, I lost the thread 
for a moment. [ Wipes his broio.] Don't you find it very sul- 
try ? I'm burning ! [Ardently taking her hand.] Burning ! 



8 



THE KAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Howell enters with a group from l. 

Viva. [Bashfully — letting him retain her hand, but mov- 
ing a step off.~\ Yes, it is rather warm. [ Crosses, l.] 

Ben. [Ardently.] You feel it too ? Oh, Viva ! [She 
turns her eyes on him.] Let me — let me — get you a glass of 
ice-water. [Darts off, r.] 

Viva. Ice-water ! And I thought a declaration was com- 
ing at last ! I'll tease him for that. [Howell, who has been 
chatting with several ladies in the conservatory, comes forward^] 
Why, lieutenant, you seem to have forgotten me for fully five 
minutes. 

Howell. My dear Miss Van Ryker, let me take your reproof 
as an undeserved distinction. [They go aside, l., talking, as 
Judge Van Ryker, the officers and General enter, in an 
expansive mood. The judge seizes the generaVs arm and points 
to the young couple, and in an exhilarant tone :] 

Judge. Ah, general, that son of yours ! You may laugh 
at me, but I'm beginning to take a deep interest in that boy — 
I mean the lieutenant, excuse me. 

General. [Amused.'] Don't restrain yourself, I beg. 

Judge. Now look at him and my daughter ! It's a pretty 
picture, isn't it ? [The two officers go up laughing^] 

Gen. [Laughing.'] A very pretty pair ! 

Judge. That's it ! a pair ! Both of 'em ! [In a burst of 
confidence^] General, I've got a little private battery of my 
own upstairs — for us old blades. Let's storm it ! 

Gen. No soldier could refuse such a challenge as that. 
[ They go up, laughing. At the door Van Ryker turns, and 
once more calls the General's attention to the group. Then 
he xlaps the General on the back, and they disappea?\] 

Sow. [Who has been flirting ivith Viva on the tete-d-tete.] 
I solemnly declare 

Viva. [Rising and retreating.] No, I won't believe a 
word you say. 

How. [Following nonchalantly.'] That's hard ! What have 
I done to deserve it? 

Viva. Nothing particular. It's only the general failing 
of the army — inconstancy ! It's something in the buttons, I 
suppose. 

How. But look at the facts in the present case. With a 
bevy of perfect beauties here this evening, I've deserted every- 
one for you ! 

Viva. The evening isn't half over yet, and the evening 
star has yet to appear. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



9 



How. [Interested.] Indeed! Who is she? Do tell me. 

Viva. Oho ! How interested you are, all of a sudden. 
Now don't deny it ! Oh, I don't mind. I should only like to 
see you two together. You'd find your match at fencing. 
But I warn you — she not only parries, she hits every time. 

How. You actually terrify me. Who is the amazon ? 

Viva. My best friend — Val Osprey. 

How. Val ? 

Viva. Mrs. Valentine Osprey. 
How. Mrs. ? [ With emphasis.] 

Viva. [Hastily]. She's a widow. [Reassuring.] But very 
young, very pretty, and veey rich. Above all, witty enough 
to turn your martial head completely. 

How. I hope she'll be merciful. 

Viva. She never gives quarter to an obstinate foe. 

How. Ah, then it will be war to the death. 

Benny enters with a glass of water. 

Benny. [On seeing the lieutenant.] That same military 
fellow, again ! [Viva perceives Benny, but feigns not to, and 
coquets with Howell.] 

Viva. When she makes her appearance, I shall be deserted 
and sit moping in a corner, I suppose. 

Ben. [Advances behind them, and coldly.] The ice-water, 
Miss Van Ryker. 

Viva. [Not turning.] Thank you — thank you. [Continues 
with Howell.] I shall have to comfort myself with dreams 
of the happy hours when the sun of your favor still warmed 
my existence. 

How. Now you're chaffing ! 

Ben. [Louder.] I beg pardon — the ice-water. 

How. [ Not turning, and mistaking him for a waiter.] Get 
out. [To Viva.] Oh, did you order it? Hold on, Delmonico. 
[Turns and takes the glass.] Allow me, Miss Van Ryker. [To 
Benny.] John, fetch me another, quick. 

Viva. [Laughs.] Allow me. [Introducing.] Lieutenant 
Everett — Mr. Demaresq. 

How. [ Quickly, apologizirig.] Oh, I^beg pardon, I'm sure — 
thousand times sorry. Awkward mistake. 

Ben. [Declining the proffered hand, stiffly.] Sir, I really 
don't know 

Viva. [Imperiously, going to him.] What don't you know ? 

Ben. [Abashed.] I don't know. 

Viva. \Meaningly.] If you wish to'quarrel here, every- 



10 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



thing is over between us forever. [Bows to Howell.] Lieu- 
tenant Everett ! [Sweeps out without noticing Benny, who 
gazes after her.] 

How. I trust my fatal mistake, Mr. Demaresq, will be 
sufficiently atoned for by an apology. 

Ben. Cer — certainly, Mr. Everett, and, under ordinary cir- 
cumstances, that would be the end of the matter ; but allow 
me to say, in a friendly spirit, that your attentions to Miss Van 
Ryker have been remarked. 

Sou:. But I can't allow you to say it ; that is, unless you 
have some official right to warn me off. 

Ben. 1 have, sir. I worship the very ground she walks 
upon. 

How. I shan't interfere with your devotions to the ground, 
sir. [Laughs.] 

Ben. I am not jesting, sir. 

How. I'm sorry for that, because I don't wish to take you 

seriously. 

Ben. [Bristling up.'] If I tell you that I seek her hand 
— and that any other man 

How. Let any other man alone. [Benny turns away.] 
It will be better. Do you ride ? 

Ben. Ride? Of course — sometimes — what has 

How. Good horse ? 

Ben. What has that got to do with Miss Van Ryker or 

you ? 

How. Everything. The animal, if he's the right sort, is 
as tame as a pet lamb — you could explode a battery under 
his nose, and he wouldn't stir. But let another nag come be- 
hind and try to outrun him : Pst ! and he's off like the wind. 
There's a little bit of the horse-kind in all of us. Some of 
us are mules and some of us are asses — you've seen that 
kind — but we none of us like to be left in the race. For my 
part, I'm as patient a donkey as you ever saw ; but if you will 
crack your whip behind me, and yell at me to clear the track, 
I'll be shot if I don't give you a brush for it. 

Ben. That's an ingenious excuse for trying to take away 
another man's sweetheart. 

How. I won't take his sweetheart — but I won't take his 
dust, either. 

Ben. Well, if you are brash enough to run the race — so be 
it. But don't reckon on a walk-over. I don't know what my 
own chance is as yet. 

How. I thought as much. 

Ben. I mean, as far as her parent is concerned. He has 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



11 



ideas of his own, and they run in another direction — but, as to 
the heart of the daughter, I have every reason to believe it's 
mine. 

How. If that's so, I wouldn't talk about it. 
Ben. On the contrary, I shall speak at once, and to the 
young lady. 

How. You may. 

Ben. I shall — with or without your permission. The 
next dance after supper is a cotillon. I shall dance it with 
her, and in the course of it I shall open my heart to her. 

How. She'll enjoy that, no doubt. 

Ben. I shall tell her — I won't tell you what I'll tell her. 
But we'll see which of us wins her — [Slaps his chest.] — the soul 
of an artist, or a dozen brass buttons. 

How. [Sips from the glass in his hand.] Here's luck to 
you. . • . 

Ben. In ice-water? Thank you. I think you'll find it 
colder before the evening's over. {Exit after Viva, l. it. e. 

Hotc. Queer fish ! [ Gives the glass to Truffles, icho is 
passing.] Am I the man to be daunted by the threat of an 
undeclared passion, of an undanced quadrille ? Never ! [Sits 
a moment in contemplation. March to supper played off 
stage.] 

Truff. [Pauses in door-ioay, looking at the glass.] Ice- 
water ! Our army is going to the devil when the officers take 
to ice-water. [Exit, l. u. e. 

How. [Springing up.] My boy, you shall not dance that 
dance, if I have to turn off the gas. [As he is going up he 
meets Scuttleby, who enters, l. u. e.] Why, hallo, Scuttleby, 
old boy — let's go and join the ladies.- 

Scuttleby. The ladies are all at supper, in various spots. 
[To Truffles, who is repassing^] Truffles, open the window 
and give us a draught. We don't mind it, and it will keep 
everybody else out of the room. [Hands him gratuity.] 

Truff. All right, sir. [Opens window and exit, l. u. e. 

How. Why, what's up, Scuttleby? 

Scut. As you see me at this moment, I'm the unhappiest 
of men. 

How. You — you unhappy ! [Laughs.] If I were not afraid 
of seeming frivolous, I should say that you make me smile. 

Scut. That's my fate through life. Other men are pitied — 
I am laughed at. It serves me right. I never cultivated the 
art of looking glum. But how can a man of the world be 
glum — life's so jolly — clubs — horses — cards — suppers — thea- 
tres — balls — the people — men and women — especially the 



12 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



women ! ah ! the thirty-button, five and three-quarter 
angels ! Oh ! and to think that J must give them all up ! 
[Sighs, and throws himself on tete-a-tete.] 
How. Not so bad as that, I hope. 

Scut. Fact. I'm standing face to face with nothing. Be- 
fore me is oblivion. [/Stfte.] 

How. I knew you were going it rather wildly. But that's 
nothing new — you've been doing that as long as I can re- 
member. Why not pull up ? 

Scat. I can't pull up. Cut off my champagne, and I die of 
thirst. I've been there once before — saved by a friend, Tom 
Dekkar; you know him. Put his hand in his pocket, squared 
everything, and set me on my legs again. It took a lot of 
money, though — bless him. 

How. But I heard you squared with him afterward. 

Scut. Oh, yes. Squared ever} T thing. Gave him my notes 
on demand. As long as Tom lived I was easy. Now he's 
gone, poor fellow, I am expecting to hear from bis executors 
every day. 

How. By Jove, that is bad. No way out ? 

Scut. Only one. Cousin Val. 

How. Cousin Val, eh ? Will he help you ? 

Scut. It isn't a he, it's a she — Mrs. Valentine Osprey. 

How. [Concealing a surprise and a start. ,] Humph! Is 
Cousin Val so very wealthy ? 

Scut. Immensely ! Osprey left her a fortune — humph ! 
What a fortune ! [Sighs.] Ah, well, it's no use getting too 
soft about it. 

How. She's young, and pretty, too ? 

Scut. Most desirable investment. 

Hoiv. Why don't you marry her ? 

Scut. That was the first thought to enter my head — un- 
fortunately it was the last to enter hers. She declined peremp- 
torily. [IVith injured air.] It was almost personal. 

How. She probably loves someone else. 

Scut. Oh, my boy, if she only would. But there's no such 
luck for me. Let her marry, and I'm a rich man. 

How. How do you make that out? 

Scut. She gets the entire income while she remains a 
widow. If she marries, the principal comes to me — unless I 
marry first — and 1 settle a modest allowance upon her. That's 
Osprey's will. 

How. What a rascally provision ! Poor girl ! 

Scut. Now you understand how my lovely cousin, by be- 
stowing her hand, can make me the happiest of men. 



THE KAILROAD OF LOVE. 



13 



Hoiv. Even if she bestows it on somebody else. 

Scut. Oh how I have tried to bring it about. It would fill 
volumes. I've pictured to her the joys of domestic life ; but 
she appears to have had one dose, and don't want another. 
I even offered to double the allowance — all in vain. She 
laughs at me. I've introduced the handsomest, wittiest fel- 
lows ; they courted her in a way that threw me into ecstasies ; 
two of them were on the brink of proposing — but when I pre- 
pared them, with every precaution, for the facts about the 
will, what do you suppose they did ? 

How. Beat a retreat. 

Scut. Yes, sir, backed out, the mean scoundrels ! One 
was suddenly called to a sick aunt in Memphis. The other 
had the coolness to propose a division to me — he to take the 
lady and half the money, and I to be satisfied with the other 
half. [Crosses, l.] Gall, wasn't it ? I tell you, old man, no- 
body marries for love nowadays. Men are dying out ! Noth- 
ing left but a selfish lot of money-grubbers. 

How. I'm afraid so. 

Scut. But now I've got an idea, and I want your help. 

How. Willingly — but I hope you don't wish me to — to 

Scut. No, no ! No designs on your happiness. I know 
you can't afford to marry a girl with nothing. You've got to 
look out for a good match. No, there's another man — the 
right one this time, I believe. [Energetically.'] When I went 
to the depot last week to meet Cousin Val, I found him on 
the same train. I recognized him at once, though I had not 
seen him for years Rich — perfectly saturated with securities — 
— mean as the devil — but a good heart. I wouldn't let him go 
to a hotel, but took him home with me. I feed him on her 
photographs, and read him to sleep with Swinburne. 

How. And the result ? 

Scut. So far, very good — only he's so infernally calm. I 
take him to see her every evening. He seems to be willing, 
but the deuce is with her. She has an uncomfortable way of 
smiling at everything he says. Still, that's not a very bad 
sign, is it ? [Anxious.] 

How. Well — that depends. 

Scut. It's given me a great deal of anxiety. [Looks off.] 
Oh, lord — there he is now, and with another girl on his arm ! 
[He goes up as Grinnidge com.es on, l., with a lady and a 
gentleman, in animated conversation. Scuttleby comes be- 
tween Grinnidge and the lady, and takes the formers arm.] 
Ah, Adam, old boy! [To others.] Excuse me. [The lady and 
gentleman go off.] Are you out of your senses, old fellow ? 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Grinnidge. Why ? 

Scut. Why ? Suppose Mrs. Osprey should pop in and find 
you with another girl. [Shakes his head.'] Ah ! ah ! 
Grin. Is she here yet? [Eagerly.] 

Scut. She is expected every minute. [To Howell.] See 
how impatient he is. He can hardly wait. [Digs Grinnidge 

in side.) 

Grin. [Modestly.] Oh, pshaw ! 

Scut. Ah, vou rascal ! \ Aside to Howell.] What do you 
think of him ? 

Sow. [Aside to Scuttleby.] He looks marriageable. 

Scut. [Same.] Doesn't he ? [A loud to Grinnidge.] I want 
to make you acquainted with my friend, Lieutenant Everett 
— Lieutenant, Mr. Adam Grinnidge. The lieutenant is as 
much at home here as he is on the plains, and if you want a 
point or two about life in town 

Grin. [Shakes hands with Howell.] I appreciate the ad- 
vantages of the acquaintance. 

How. The pleasure is mine. I understand you are fond of 
poetry. [Scuttleby kicks him.] 

Grin. Oh ! that's Scuttleby's doings. He is really too 
kind to me. I don't know how I deserve it. 

Scut. Why, the very first thing I heard of you from Cousin 
Val raised you in my estimation. [To Howell.] Just fancy ! 
Val dropped her bag off the platform between the tracks just 
as the train was starting — and he jumped down and got it for 
her at the risk of his life. Think of it — risked his life to 
oblige a lady. 

Grin. [Remonstrating >.] The fact is, I thought it was 
my bag. 

Scut. [Vexed.] For goodness sake, Grinnidge, don't say 
that where she can hear you. You've said it before, and I 
told you to let well enough alone. She's getting' deeply in- 
terested in you. 

Grin. Indeed ! I'm glad of that. I'm particularly anx- 
ious to get in her good graces. I think she is 

Scut. [Quickly interrupting him.] An angel. Of course 
she is. Have you sent her a bouquet ? [Takes his handker- 
chief, and mechanically but affectionately brushes Grinnidge's 
coat.] 

Grin. No. Ought I to do that ? 

Scut. [Impatiently.] Ought you to do that ? Adam, 
you are too slow a coach for the nineteenth century. Man 
alive ! it's railroad time with the women nowadays. The 
fast express catches the fair passenger. If you are loaded 



THE RAILKOAD OF LOVE. 



15 



with millions, you may court on way-freight time, or a partic- 
ularly fascinating fellow may jog along on accommodation 
schedule. But the dare-devil in love will flash across the 
switches, through the tunnels, and around the curves with a 
strong heart and no flinching-. That's the sort that subju- 
gates both time and woman. 

Grin. [Feebly.] I'll go out and get a bouquet at once. 
Scut. [Detains him.] Luckily I thought of it, and sent 
one already with your card in it. It's all right. [Takes a 
rose from his coat.] Here's a rose from it for your button- 
hole. 

Grin. [Takes rose.] What a fellow you are ! 
How. Allow me to assist. [Adjusts the rose.] 
Grin. Gentlemen, you are both too good. [Scuttleby 
produces a long bottle of Cologne and sprinkles him. Vita 
looks in at l. c. , and runs to Howell.] 
Viva. [Half -whisper.] Mr. Everett ! 
How. Miss Van Ryker ! 

Viva. Mrs. Osprey is here. [Runs back and off.] 
Scut. Cousin Val come ! [To Geinnidge.] Hurry up ! 
Be the first to meet her ! [ Urges Geinnidge up c., then turns 
back quickly to Howell. Geinnidge goes up, and after 
leaving Scuttleby meets tioo gentlemen, and they go off, 
e., together. Scuttleby speaks hastily as he comes back to 
Howell.] Now, old chap, for the act of friendship I want 
you to perform for me. You are going to lead the german after 
supper. Give Grinnidge a fair chance with Val. See that he 
gets an opportunity to have a long talk with her. I wish to 
gracious we could have one of those old-fashioned forfeit 
games where kissing comes in. That used to do the business. 
Weddings and forfeits died out together. You'll help me ? 
How. Make your mind easy. 

Scut. [As Valentine is heard laughing outside.] Look 
sharp ! here she is. 

How. [Looking up.] By Jove ! [Scuttleby represses him 
as Valentine Ospeey enters with Viva, and through a little 
croiod of admirers, among them the Geneeal and Judge 
Van Rykee, who .remain above, icith some ladies. Valen- 
tine comes down — -followed by Viva, and Scuttleby advances 
to her.] 

Scut. You're late. You're three hours behind almanac- 
time. Venus was to rise at eight. 

Valentine. That's very florid, but you can't scold half as 
prettily as Viva. 

Viva. Now you are here, it's all right. But you nearly 



L6 



THE 11 AILKOAD OF LOVE. 



spoiled my whole evening. There are ever so many men here 
I want to see fall dead in love with you. 

Val. You mean you want them to dance with me. 

Viva. Same thing. Allow me to present our best waltzer, 
Lieutenant Everett. 

Val, [Looks at him, as if she recognized him.] Indeed. 
How. I assure you [Somewhat embarrassed.] 

Viva. I've told him ever so much about you. I won't tell 
you anything about him. You must find him out for yourself. 
Only — believe just a fraction of the pretty things he says. 

Val. [ Who has been regarding Howell with unsuppresscd 
and smiling interest, now laughs.] How cruel ! 

How. [7b Viva.] I seem to make a very lively impression. 
[Bites his mustache.] 

Scat. [ Who has be<n looking off everywhere for Grinnidge.] 
I say, Val, have you seen Grinnidge ? 

Val. No. Is he here ? 

Scut. Why, certainly. He's been standing on his head 
with impatience. Just now he was boring me with questions 
as to when you were coming. [To Judge Van Ryker, wAo 
conies forward to Viva.] Judge, where did Grinnidge go? 

Judge. Who? Grinnidge? Oh! he's smoking a ciga- 
rette upstairs. [Howell and Viva talk aside.] 

Scut. [Furious.] Smoking a cigarette ! [Hurrying up.] 
I'll make him swallow it. [Exit, k. 

Val. [To Judge.] You ought to have suppressed that fact. 

Judge. Why ? 

Val. It's quite a funny story. I'll tell you sometime. I 
spend my lonesome afternoons laughing over it. [Crosses, r.] 
Judge. I must hear it, you know. [Sees Howell, and goes 
to him.] But, bless my soul, let me introduce an excellent 
young friend of mine ; I'm proud of him — Lieutenant Howell 
Everett. [Ho well looks vexed, and Valentine looks at him 
and laughs.] An honor to the service ! 

Viva. But, papa 

Judge. [ Continues.] The pride of 

Val. [Interrupting.] Battery "B." 
Judge. [Continuing.] The pet of the ladies. 
How. My dear sir 

Vcd. [Sobering.] I've had the pleasure alread}'. 

Judge. Oh ! you have. Then it's all right. [Goes up.] 

How. [Aside.] I wonder why she smiles all over whenever 
she looks at me. I'm not Grinnidge. 

Viva. [Aside to Valentine] Why do you look at him and 
laugh ? 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



17 



Veil. I'll tell you by and by. Leave us together for a few- 
moments. 

Viva. Oh, you know one another. Well, of all the sly 
men — and he never breathed it. [Takes Judge's arm.'] 
Come, papa. [They go up and join group at bach; presently 
she is joined by Benny, and the party goes off together.] 

How. [Producing an order of dancing.] Permit me to 
present you with a card of the dances. [/She takes it] I shall 
presently have the painful duty of introducing some partners. 

Vol. [Surprised.] Painful? Duty? 

How. Unfortunately, since I should esteem myself su- 
premely happy if you would, to save further trouble, write my 
name across your card. 

Vol. Isn't that a little unreasonable ? 

How. I feel it so myself, but a glance at the mirror would 
show you how natural my request really is. 

Val. Do you think so ? [Looks at him smilingly, and then 
gives way to an immoderate burst of laughter.] 

How. [Piqued.] Mrs. Osprey, you doubtless know how 
well a laugh becomes you, but couldn't you do a graceful act 
and permit me to join in the merriment ? Only be kind enough 
to let me know 7 where the joke is. 

Val. Oh, yes, I'll be kind enough. Look at me atten- 
tively. 

How. You know very well I've been studying your face for 
the last ten minutes. 

Val. And it recalls nothing to you ? 
How. The fact is [Pause.] 

Val. The fact is, we do not meet for the first time. | Sits 
at piano, k.] 

How. [Eagerly.] Indeed. [Beside her.] 
Val. Turn back a few leaves of your memory. Where did 
I see you before ? Come now — guess. [Plays ge7itly.] 

How. Where? [Trying to think, then venturing.] At a 
ball ? 

Val. You are nowhere near it. As the children say in 
their game — you're "cold." [Continues to play.] 

How. [Suddenly.] At the opera? [She laughs.] At the 
theatre ? 

Val. Very cold — freezing. Go on. Guess ! 
How. Travelling ? 
Val [Stops playing .] Warmer. 

How. Ah, then it was travelling. Let's see. I was in 
Oregon in '84 — Oregon ? [She laughs and resumes playing .] 
Not Oregon — eh ? [Sudden guess.] Down South — Mobile ? 
2 



18 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Val. Cold. [Plays softly another air, something Tyrolean.'] 
Hot?. There ! [Listening to music] Oh, 1 knew it was 
not in this country. It was abroad. 
Val. Very warm. 

How. I was abroad in '85. Italy? No! The Tyrol? 
[She stops.] It was in the Tyrol. 
Val. Hot. 

How. Hot — so am I. But where 

Val. Have you forgotten the excursion-train to Weisen- 

bach ? 

How. What ? Not [At a sudden recollection he hides 

his face in his hands in comic fright.] Oh, never ! 
Val. Yes, sir. 

How. But, come now — as I remember, there were only two 
ladies in the coach. 
Val. Are you sure ? 

How. There was a bundle in the corner Somebody or 
something wrapped up in rugs and shawls. 

Val. I was the bundle. 
How. [Horrified.] You ? Impossible. 

Val. Yes. 

How. Oh, well, in that disguise you can't blame me for 

not recognizing 

Val. Oh, no, I don't complain of that. I had caught a 
frightful cold on the Grundl Lake. When I got into the car, 
I found two young ladies — the pink of propriety and prim- 
ness — they looked as if butter wouldn't, melt in their mouths. 
At the second station the door flies open, and a gentleman 
darts in. A moment's glance showed me a fellow-country- 
man. A second showed me a soldier. I watched. His first 
glance took us all in. He disdained the bundle, but his 
eagle-eye fell upon the two poor little frauleins, and seemed 
to say — Tell me, what do men say to themselves when they 
think they are going to be irresistible ? 

How. [Crestfallen.] I don't know, I'm sure. 
Val. Oh, well, perhaps they say nothing. At all events, 
I said to myself : " My young friend, you will lose your 
time, those two young ladies are above flirtation." 

How. [ IVith a conceited air.] Indeed. 
Val. Oh, yes, I admit it — I was basely deceived. My 
young countryman did not lose his time. He began the at- 
tack. At first the Tyrolean doves were indignant at the 
American eaglet. He didn't mind that. He went on. How 
he went on — and about what, I didn't know ; but in less than 
ten minutes he had the two in a perfect ecstasy of fun, and by 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



19 



the time we reached Weisenbach they were all three talking 
at once. When he got out there was a most effusive leave- 
taking, and the last I saw of him, he was standing on the 
platform holding two roses in one hand and blowing kisses 
with the other, while two handkerchiefs from the coach- 
window were waving him tender adieux. His success was so 
pronounced that I did as they do in a theatre — I clapped my 
hands and cried, "Bravo ! " 

How. [JBows, smiling. ~\ Glad that our efforts met with 

your approbation 

Val. Well, the train started — and the two girls sighed, 
squeezed each other's hands, rolled their eyes upward, and 
then settled back to be pinks of propriety and primness as 
before. From that day to this T have been plagued with 
curiosity to know how he did it ? What witty, original, in- 
genious things could he have said to break down their reserve, 
upset their decorum, and make those two young Tyrolean 
lambs as wild and as frisky as himself. 

How. [Flattered.] Oh 

Val. And now I meet him face to face — of course, the first 
thing I hear is that he's the pride of the service and the pet 
of the ladies. I was prepared to be dazzled, astonished, de- 
lighted — and then to be disappointed this way. Oh ! [Mock 
resentment .] 

How. [/Seriously.] What way ? 

Val. Instead of brilliant originality — common-places, 
dancing-school compliments. [He draws himself up.] Don't 
be angry. It's your own fault. You led me to anticipate too 
much. After what I had seen on the railroad to Weisenbach, 
I expected champagne — and you treat me to lemonade. It's 
very nice — but I have been so surfeited with lemonade. 

How. [ Who has recovered himself and begins to look 
ivicked.] You are a severe judge, my dear Mrs. Osprey — but 
I bow before your sentence. Only let me speak a last word 
in my defence. 

Val. Pray, do. 

How. I can understand that the beginning of my con- 
versation was not calculated to impress you very strongly. 
But all beginnings are tedious, you must remember. The 
most thrilling stories commence with that hackneyed, "Once 
upon a time ;" yet if we read on, the interest deepens. But 
you shut the book with a petulant "No good," and toss it 
aside before you've got to the end of the first chapter. 

Val. Because I found it the old story, and the hero 

How. Have mercy on the poor hero. Remember his em- 



20 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



barrassment in the first scene. lie meets a lady who doubly 
disconcerts him — first by her beauty, and then by her laughter, 
for which he can assign no cause. [Keenly, .] You should 
have given him time to discern the presence of so much wit 
behind the ridicule. 

Val. I admit that. It was not very easy. 

How. You see ; the poor hero excites your sympathy al- 
ready. If you would accompany him a few chapters further 
on — I don't know the plot myself yet — but the story is likely 
to take us off the beaten paths, that I can promise you, 
through forests dark — perhaps by crooked ways — by precipice 
and dizzy height, and danger. In fact, just where a pretty 
woman's caprice might lead any man, even the wisest. 

VaL Indeed. That's quite to my taste. It might tempt 
me to read further. 

Hon:. To the end? 

Val. That depends. If the plot is fascinating enough. 

How. It shall be. Give me your attention closely. The 
real interest begins at the moment the heroine appears. [He 
says this with meaning. Valentine drops her eyes.] She is no 
fashionable doll, no boarding-school beauty, but a woman, in 
whose eyes the hero seeks his fate with ardent eagerness. He 
finds it — he reads there that to win her he must make a name 
the world shall honor, and when he does, when he sinks at 
her feet to claim the reward 

Val. [Interrupts him.'] Oh, gently — gently ! Yon are 
disclosing the end. Then what becomes of the surprise ? 

How. Oh, you'll have the surprise. Oh, dear, yes ! 

Val. Who knows whether the heroine will care to send 
such a terrible champion roaming through the world? 

How. Oh, she will, she will. My heroine will. 

Val. Indeed. Do you know there are some women who, 
out of mere caprice, might feel inclined to be angry at a hero 
who, quite unasked, insists upon making them his Dulcineas. 

How. [Pretending surp/rise^] Unasked? Of course ! But 
I have asked. 

VaL [Freezingly.] I am not aware of the fact. 

How. [Pretending gravity."] You! Certainly not, my 
dear madam. But the other one has — my heroine. 

Val. [Forgetting herself.] Your heroine — why, I thought 
[ Checks herself.] 

How. Exactly. You thought. That's the surprise. The 
readers of romance always think they know — when it turns 
out it's somebody else. But go on — read right on to the end, 
you'll find the plot thicken. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



21 



Val. [Aside.] The wretch ! 

Hova. I believe I can promise you a number of startling 
incidents. You not only made a mistake in the heroine, but 
I'll wager you've been mistaken in the hero, too. He doesn't 
always offer lemonade. [She looks at him. He adds, sweetly : 
When he meets a connoisseur he serves champagne. [Botos. 

Val. [After a short pause, extends her hand and smiles. 
I am totally defeated. 

Hoio. [.Kisses her hand. ~] Another victory like this and I 
am lost. 

Viva rims in, l.u.e. 

Viva. [ Going to Howell.] Supper's over and everybody 
wants to dance, lieutenant. [All the ladies and gentlemen 
enter from back.] The ladies will mutiny. 

Hoio. Will you excuse me, my dear Mrs. Osprey ? [Bows 
and goes up giving a signal, which is responded to by the band 
giving the preliminary flourish for a, cotillon.] 

Val. [To Viva, aside.] Do you know that your lieuten- 
ant is a military monster ? [ Goes %tp and meets General 
and Judge. J 

Viva. [Iro?iically.] Indeed. [Goes aside and meets How - 

ELL.] 

How. [ Taking both her hands, and aside.] Do you know 
that your friend is a perfect angel ? 

Viva. [Ironically.] Indeed. [Benny advances brusquely 
between Howell and Viva.] 

Hen. I beg to remind you, lieutenant, that this is my 
quadrille. 

How. No. Yours was a waltz. 

Ben. No, sir ; I can't waltz. [Slips Viva's arm into his 
and takes his place at l., in the cotillon which is forming.] 

How. Can't you ? Then you won't have this dance. 
[Beckons to Truffles, who has come on to close the windoio, 
and points off toioard where the band is playing. Truffles 
nods and exits.] 

Scuttleby. [ Who has joined Valentine above icith Grin- 
nidge, and now comes forward with both.] Yes, he found me 
at last, coz. ; he's been running all over to find me and he 
finally got me. He wants the honor of your hand for this 
dance. 

Val. With pleasure. [Takes Grinnidge's arm, and as 
they look for a place Scuttleby makes one for them at r. 
by seizing a couple and hurrying them up to a distant position, 
beckoning to Grinnidge to take the vacant place, which he 



22 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



does ; coming back himself with a partner and taking the rear 
corner in the dance.'] 

Ben. [To Viva. J At last I have you all to myself for 
fifteen minutes. 

How. Don't be too sure. [The band begins a waltz-move- 
me/tt. Benny commences to boic as in a cotillon. All couples 
have a moments pause of surprise. Then a general laugh — 
and all begin to waltz.'] 

Ben. What's this? 

Viva. A waltz. [Howell bows to her.] 
Ben. But I can't waltz. 

How. So sorry ! [He and Viva begin to waltz, leaving 
Benny in despair and knocked from side to side by the dan- 
cers. As they waltz off the music changes, and a Pavane is 
danced, at the end of which 

THE CURTAIN FALLS. 



ACT II. 

Scene. — The same. A day or two after the ball Morning. 
Viva is seen, at rise of curtain, playing the piano; an 
extremely lively air. After a while she breaks off sud- 
denly, jumps up, and runs to the window at l., looks 
out, comes away with an "O pshaw !" and. returns to 
piano, and sits pouting. 

Viva. I thought it was our bell. I'm sure he'll come to- 
day. He must want to make up after leaving me in a huff the 
night of the ball. And it wasn't my fault. I didn't change 
the music. There's some one trying to ring, I'm sure. [Darts 
toward the window again, and, just eis she is about to look out, 
she is checked by the voice of her father, who enters at back.] 

Judge. [Entering, r. u. e., eind detecting Viva running.] 
Where are you running, rogue ? Ah, to the window. I un- 
derstand. [Slyly.] Impatient, eh ? 

Viva. [Pretending.] Impatient about what ? [He shakes 
his finger at her.] You are very much mistaken, papa. 

Judge. Am I ? I can tell you whom you are watching for 
this minute. 

Viva. But I assure you 

Judge. [Interrupting, but kindly.] Never mind assuring 
me. Come here and let's have a sensible talk. [She ap- 



THE RAILROAD OF LOYE. 



23 



proaches, and he draws her down beside him on the sofa.] 

Why, how red you've got, all of a sudden. You guess what 

I'm going to say, you rogue. 

Viva. Well, perhaps I do — a little. [Turns away.] 
Judge. And what have you to say in reply? 
Viva. Has he spoken to you already ? [Facing him.] 
Judge. No-o-o ! but one can't help seeing how the cat 

jumps, eh ? 

Viva. Well, I suppose I've noticed something, too. 
Judge. [Overjoyed.] And I suppose you've arranged 
everything between you ? 

Viva. I've arranged everything, and I shouldn't wonder if 
he had, but, papa, we haven't come to words yet. 

Judge. And when you do, I suppose you won't quarrel. 
She turns away her head.] Ah, you little puss, kiss me.. 
Rising.'] But why doesn't he speak ? 

Viva. I don't know, papa. I can't begin it, of course, 
and he keeps putting it off and putting it off. I really believe 
he's afraid. 

Judge. Afraid ! What's he afraid of ? 
Viva. Me. 
Judge. You ? 

Viva. Yes. Some men are so timid before a little woman, 
and yet they laugh at us for being frightened at a bit of a 
mouse. Papa — as I am so willing, and as you are so willing — 
shall I help him a bit ? 

Judge. Help him ! To propose ! What are you thinking 
of ? It would be all over the camp in no time. 

Viva. I don't see how it could get all over the camp. He 
hates the army. 

Judge. Hates it ? Is he going to resign ? 

Viva. Whom are you thinking of ? 

Judge. Whom are you speaking of ? 

Viva. Why, Benny Demaresq, of course. 

Judge. [Hotly.] Has that young animal dared ? 

Viva. [Faltering.] Why, papa, you said you had noticed 
it 

Judge. Nonsense ! Come, none of that. 
Viva. Pray, explain, papa — none of what ? 
Judge. You flirted with Lieutenant Everett all night at 
the ball, and you cut that paint-mixer at every turn. That's 
what I noticed. What was I to think ? 

Viva. [Contritely.] You are right, papa. It was very 
wicked, and I'm very sorry. But I did it all to make him 
speak. 



24 THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 

Judge. See here, I won't have any mistake about this. 
I'll speak to this young man myself. 

Truffles. [jEfoters, announcing.] Mr. Demaresq ! 

Judge. He's just in time. [To Truffles.] Show him in. 
[Truffles exits. Viva makes an appealing gesture to her 
father, u-ho waves her off.] No, no. [Truffles shows in 
Demaresq, and then exits. J I'm much obliged to you for com- 
ing just as you happen to be wanted. 

Ben. I'm glad, sir, to be here, and if you are glad, I'm very 
glad, sir, I'm sure. {Looks at Viva, who turiis away in de- 
spair.] 

Judge. We've made a pretty discovery here, sir. Under 
pretence of painting my daughter's portrait, you have been 
making love to her behind my back. 

Ben. [Amazed, looks from Judge to Viva, who starts.] 
M-making love, sir ? 

Viva. Papa ! 

Judge. [Severely.] Don't deny it ! My daughter, sir, has 
confessed it all. Your arts have beguiled her, until she loves 

you. 

Ben. [Overjoyed.] Say that again, sir. 

Judge. No threats to me, young man. I repeat my words. 
She loves you — and has had the impudence to admit it. 

Ben. [Goes to her.] Is it possible ! [Embraces her.] My 
dearest girl. 

Judge. [Stupefied.] What are you doing there, both of 
you ? 

Ben. Mr. Van Ryker, you have done more for me than I 
could do for myself. I dared to hope, but not to speak. How 
can I thank you ? [Extends his hand.] 

Judge. And you have the baseness to take advantage of a 
father's indignation ? 

Ben. A man in my place is thankful for anything. If you 
knew how I love her, Mr. Van Ryker — papa. 

Judge. Silence. My daughter is engaged to Lieutenant 
Everett. [The young people start in astonishment, looking at 
him.] 

Viva. Papa — that's a fib. 

Judge. J have engaged her — and Lieutenant Everett's 
father has engaged him. He's coming here to-day to settle 
the preliminaries. The first preliminary to be settled is you 
— and I'll attend to you at once. Oblige me. [Hands 
him his hat, and is urging him up c. and off l. — when Mrs. 
Osprey enters.] 

Ben. But, judge, listen to me. 



THE BAILROAD OF LOVE. 



25 



Viva. Papa ! 

Val. [As she enters.'] A scene ! [Stops.] 

Viva. [Running to her.] Oh, vionH you speak to papa ? 
Judge. Valentine, you are my daughter's friend. Speak 
a sensible word to a foolish girl. 

Val. Then you mustn't scold her. You see she is perfectly 
miserable already. 

Judge. [Goes to Viva, and pets her.] I won't make her 
miserable. And I won't allow her to make herself miserable. 
[To Viva.] I don't ask you to do anything violent. Think 
it over. Take your friend's advice. [To Valentine.] You'll 
talk to her, won't you ? 

Val. Make your mind easy. I know just how to manage 
these matters. 

Judge. Very good. [To Benny.] Then this gentleman 
need not trouble himself any further. 

JBen. Oh, I don't. [Good-naturedly.] 

Judge. What do you mean by that, sir ? 

Tmiff. [Announcing.] General Everett. 

Judge. Show him into the library. [Truffles exits.] [To 
Viva.] You see, here's his father. I can't back out now. 
You'll oblige me very much if you'll drop this sentimental 
nonsense and be practical. [Aside, after looking at Benny.] 
The fellow doesn't stir. [Aloud, to Benny.] Are you coming? 

Ben. Thank you, I prefer to stay. 

Judge. [To Valentine, forcibly. ] Don't leave this room 
under any circumstances. 
Val. I won't. 

Judge. Thank you. [Aside, going.] Two's company, 
three's none. [Exit, l. As soon as he goes out, Valentine 
looks from one to the other ; Viva, l., Benny, r.] 

Val. Now we are all together, and no one to interfere, 
tell me all about it. What's the matter ? 

Ben. Nothing at all. We only love each other. That's 
all. 

Vina. Yes, that's all. And we will never 

Val. Of course, of course. And that's all ? 
Ben. No. There is a complication growing out of that 
Lieutenant Everett. 

Viva. Yes. He wants to marry me. 
Val. Indeed. 

Viva. [Fiercely.] But I'll die first. 

Ben. [Crosses to Viva.] Not while I have life left. 
[Clasps her in his arms.] Oh, Viva! Viva ! 

Viva. [Retreating.] Please don't. She's looking. 



26 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Ben. [Turning her to c] My darling! my angel ! 

Val. Gently, gentl}*, for gracious sake. I've no doubt 
this is very delightful to you — but it's lijte seeing other 
people eat. 

Viva. [Going to her.] You know what love is. 
Val. Yes. But I've had my dinner. [ Crosses.] 
Ben. I remember ; you're a widow. But can you see a 
big, awkward fellow beside himself with joy and not feel 

moved ? 

Val. I'll help you all I can. [Laughs.] I have it — I'll 

speak to the lieutenant. 

Viva. You dear, kind 

Ben. How can I thank you ? [ With ferocious fervor.] 
I can't believe it, it's so sudden. [ To Valentine, turning Viva 
to c] Oh, if you were not here at this moment. 

Val. I believe you. But, unfortunately, I have to be here. 
I have pledged my word not to leave this room. 

Viva. [Despondent.] Oh, dear ! 

Val. Oh, you little goose. 

Viva. [Suddenly.] Oh, I see — I understand. You are 
an angel. [Kisses her rapturously, and runs q/f R. u. e. 

Ben. [Alarmed, calls.] Viva! Viva! Where's she gone ? 

Val. To the next room. 

Ben. Won't she come back ? 

Val. I don't know. I can't leave this room. 

Ben. [After a pause, suddenly.] I see — I understand ! You 
can't, but we can. Bless you. [Buns off after Viva, k. u. e.] 

Val. They think that's wonderful. It's the A B C of lovers' 
strategy. How many good things I can do for other people. 
I never have a chance to practise for myself. 

Truffles. [Enters.] Mr. Grinnidge has just called to see 
the judge, ma'am, and the judge is engaged with another 
visitor — may I show Mr. Grinnidge in here ? 

Val. Certainly. [Truffles exit] Poor Cousin Scuttleby 
thinks he has found me a lover. I wish he could hear the 
love-making. 

Grinnidge enters, l. u. e. 

Grinnidge. Mrs. Osprey ! What an unexpected pleasure ! 
Val. Quite an unexpected — meeting. 

Grin. Judge Van Ryker is engaged, it seems. May I seize 
the opportunity to ask you whether you won't reconsider your 
refusal of the proposition I made you lately? 

Val. The refusal is final ; I have paid Cousin Scuttleby's 
debts too often. Please address yourself directly to him. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



27 



Grin. But he hasn't a dollar ; you know that as well as 
anybody. I came on to collect those notes of his — [ Takes out a 
pocket-book from left breast-pocket.] — but he's been showing me 
so much attention that I haven't the heart to mention them. 
[Fingers three promissory notes.'] Then he's been throwing 
out the most mysterious hints about some prospective good 
fortune in store for me ; I can't imagine what he's driving at 
— can you ? 

Val. You may possibly learn, by and by. It concerns us 
both. [Laughs.] 

Grin. [Pleased.] No ! Well, you understand, when a 
fellow is so friendly you can't dun him ; then all at once I was 
struck by an idea — you seemed to take a great interest in him 
— I felt sure you had a kind heart, and that perhaps I had 
only to propose the matter and you'd kindly take up the ob- 
ligations. [Shows notes.] 

Val. Oh, no. [Gives him her hand.] I thank you for 
your flattering confidence — but the amount is too large. 

Scuttleby enter s at c. l., and stops on seeing them. 

Grin. We won't call this the end of it. [Kissing her 
hand.] I'll hope for a change of sentiment. [ Closes pocket- 
book.] 

Scuttleby. [Overjoyed — rubbing his hands.] By Jove ! 
[Turns, and is about to steal off when they perceive him.] 
Val. Oh, is that you ? 

Scut. [Turns, embarrassed^] Yes; how de do ? [Aside, 
coming down c] How awkward of me to spoil such a tete-d- 
tete. 

Val. Now, what's that long face for ? 

Scut. I ! Long face ! Oh, no. [Aside to Grinnidge.] 
Don't forget where you left off. I'm going right away again. 
[To Valentine.] I just remember I've got an appoint- 
ment. Seeing you reminded me. I'll drop in later. [Going 
up.] 

Val. Phenix. [Beckons him to her.] 
Scut. [Comes down, c] What is it ? [Confidentially.] 
Val. I've been having a very interesting conversation with 
your friend Grinnidge. 

Scut. [Delighted.] Really ! Did he come right out ? 
Val. He did. Right out ! 

Scut. [Rapturously.] Christopher Columbus ! Are you 
sure of him ? 

Val. I believe I understand him pretty thoroughly. 



28 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



/Scut. Do you ? [Delighted.'] Did I exaggerate ? 
I'a/. On the contrary, you don't know half about him 
yourself. 

Scut. No. [Glances at Grixnidgk.] And yet, when you look 
at him, there don't seem to be much to him. But he's got it 
here. [Taps his heart. Grinnidge is replacing the pocket- 
book In Iiis left breast coat pocket^] 

Vol. Yes. That's just where he has got it. 

Scut. Ah, let a woman alone for finding out. Well, I'll 
play innocent — and whatever comes out, I'll pretend to be 
astonished. [ Winks at her.~\ 

Vol. Oh, you won't need to pretend. [To Grinnidge, 
going l.] Good morning, Mr. Grinnidge. Shall we see you 
this evening ? 

Scut. Certainly, certainly. [Goes to Grinnidge, and 
nudges him.] 

Val. Pray, don't forget. [Exit, laughing, r. u. e. 

Scut. We won't forget. [Turns and grasps ( Jkinmdge's 
hand."] My boy, I congratulate you. Isn't that a woman ! 
Maddening ! intoxicating ! 

Grin. She is quite jolly. 

Scut. Quite jolly ! Bah ! wait till she fully bewitches 
you. And she will ! Ah, you lucky dog! [Slips his arm into 
Grinnidge's.] Tell me what you said to her. 

Grin. I scarcely like to speak about such a delicate subject. 

Scut. You're right. Grinny, old boy, I honor you — I honor 
your delicacy, I do. But only one question — did she, in the 
course of the conversation, allude to a clause in the will ? 

Grin. [Surprised.] Will ! No. 

Scut. \ Aside.] She never does. I have to do it every 
time. I'll prepare him carefully. He seems in the proper dis- 
position. 

Grill. [Aside.] It's no use keeping him in the dark any 
longer. I may as well talk to him about the notes. 

Scut. [To Grinnidge, with a burst of heartiness.] My dear 
Grinnidge, we knew each other as boys, and now we meet as 
men. I can say, without flinching, that you are one of the few 
fellows who still cherish the ideals of the true, the beautiful, 
and the good. 

Grin. [Suspiciously.] I don't quite catch 

Scut. I mean, I believe you value the love of a beautiful 
woman above the whole universe. 

Grin. [Slyly.] Well, I confess I am soft that way. 

Scut. And you are right. What is mere money compared 
to it ? 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



29 



Grin. Well, we shouldn't undervalue that, either. 

Scut. You mustn't say that, Adam, it isn't worthy of you. 
If a woman like my cousin, for instance, consented to make a 
man happy with her hand, wouldn't you think it despicable to 
ask, on the way to the altar, the amount of her fortune ? 

Grin. I would — that ought to be considered before. 

Scut. Don't — don't be so cool, Grinnidge. It's an impor- 
tant moment in your life. Answer me candidly, do you like 
Mrs. Osprey ? 

Grin. [Frankly.] I like her very much. 

Scut. Very well. Now, if I tell you that she is poor — pen- 
niless, would you like her the less for that ? 

Grin. [Surprised.] I ! Certainly not. 

Scut. [Touched, offers his hand.] Thank you, that an- 
swer does me good ; and believe me, old fellow, in the years 
to come, on the day of your silver wedding, you'll recall this 
hour and bless me. You 11 say: "He was right. Money 
goes, love remains. I did well to marry that girl." 

Grin. Marry her? I ! [Amazed.] 

Scut. [Digs him in the ribs.] You lucky rascal ! 

Grin. You're joking. What would my wife say ? 

Scut. [His jaw falls — and he is compelled by sudden toeak- 
ness to sink into a chair, c. — gazing at Grinnidge.] Your 
wife ! You don't mean to say you're married ? 

Grin. Why, didn't you know ? 

Scut. [Indignantly ] Know ! How the deuce should I 
know ? You never mentioned it. 

Grin. You never asked about it. [Takes an envelope 
from his pocket and extracts a letter and a carte de visite.] 
Here's a letter from my wife. I mentioned meeting you, and 
she sends her regards. Here's her photograph, with our 
Tommy on her lap. 

Scut. Your Tommy on her lap ! 

Grin. [Frankly.] Perhaps I owe you an explanation, 
and I'll make everything plain [in a moment. You see, my 
wife was a Miss Dekkar 

Scut. Dekkar ! [Rises, terrified.] 

Grin. Yes. Poor Tom Dekkar, your friend, was her 
brother. We named our Tommy after him. She's her broth- 
er's sole legatee, and we found these promissory notes of yours 
among his papers. [Takes out the notes and proffers them.] 

Scut. My notes ! [Gulping in dismay.] 

Grin. I hate to bother you, but as executor, you know ! 

Scut. [To himself.] And I read this man to sleep with 
Swinburne ! 



30 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Grin. I know you are hard up, but you live so deucedly 
high. What a lot of money you've been spending on me, for 
instance ! 

Scut. Don't reproach me with that, old fellow — don't. 

Grin. On the contrary, I've been thinking how to get you 
out of your scrape. 

Scut. [Brightening.] No! Have you ? 

Grin. There's a lady I know — a cousin of my wife's. 

Scat. Another Dekkar ? 

Grin. Yes. belongs to the elder branch. 

Scut. The elder ! A double-decker, I suppose ! Much 
older? 

Grin. Oh, that's F a mere detail. She's very wealthy — 
quite a business-woman — manages her own affairs. I expect 
her in New York every day to close a trade about some lots. 
If you make up your mind to sail in and win, I'll telegraph 
her to come up at once on important business. 

Scut. [Dolefully.] I'll try. But what's the use ? I haven't 
an}' luck making matches for myself or anybody else. 

Grin. Make your mind easy, I'll get my wife to manage 
Eutycia, and the thing is as good as done. 

Sent. Eutycia ! [Rubbing his chin with some misgiving.'] 

Grin. Yes. Nice name — isn't it ? 

Scut. [Nods gloomily.] Yes. Well — all right. When 
you telegraph to your wife, wire her my regards and enclose a 
kiss to — Tommy. [ They shake hands. Howell enters, r. u. e., 
shown in by Truffles ; he carries a small bouquet of roses. 
Truffles goes to Viva's room to announce him.] 

Scut. [Going to meet him.] Ah, old fellow ! [Takes his 
hanrl and brings him down — shaking hands warmly. Aside.] 
You may possibly be able to congratulate me, after all. I 
think it'll turn up all right. Adam is coming to the rescue. 

Howell. What, are he and Mrs. Osprey going to 

Scut. Heaven forbid ! No ; things are merely reversed. 
I don't marry him — he marries me. [Nods and winks, and 
takes Grixxidge's arm arid they go off, l. u. e.] 

How. [Calls after him.] My regards to the bride. [Turns 
to front.] I wonder w T ho she is. 

Vol. [Enters, r. door.] A bouquet ! How very like a lover ! 

How. [Turns, surprised.] Mrs. Osprey ! What a sur- 
prise. [Boies and extends bouquet with a flourish.] Permit 
me to lay at your feet my respectful salutations. [ Coolly 
places the bouquet on the piano.] 

Vol. [ Who had extended her hand, expecting the flowers.] 
Good morning. 



THE KAILROAD OF LOVE. 



31 



How. "Good morning." How short, and yet how full of 
meaning. To some it signifies nothing but the ordinary greet- 
ing, but the finer ear detects in it the echo of regret for the 
parting of yesterday and the hope of a welcome with to-mor- 
row. 

Val. What a remarkable ear ! Not only finer, but 
longer than ordinary, I should say. [Laughs.] Now tell me, 
what induces you to hold forth in this solemn manner so soon 
after breakfast ? 

How. Solemn ! I defy anyone to be solemn when that 
smile creeps into your eyes. [Steps back in apparent alarm.] 
Don't, please, don't. 

Vol. Don't what? 

How. You are meditating some mischief. [Looks around, 
alarmed.] I feel I'm in danger. 
Val. Oh, reassure yourself. 

How. I feel that you've laid a trap or set a mine, and you 
are watching to see me tread on it and fly in the air. 

Val. I lay a trap for you ! You flatter yourself. [Laughs.] 
Am I really to suppose that you don't know what is going on 
here ? 

How. You know I'm a comparative stranger in the city. 
This is my first leave of absence in two years. 

Val. Then I'll enlighten you. [Crosses, e.] A loving 
father is sitting in there. [Points off c] And a tender 
daughter is waiting in there. [Points, n. ir. e.] Before me 
stands a trembling suitor, with a bouquet and a well-prepared 
speech, inwardly groaning at being kept from the object of 
his adoration. Don't fret, you won't have to groan long. 
This frightful woman is going to leave you and your inamo- 
rata together. 

How. [JVettled.] I assure you, upon my word of honor, 
that you utterly misunderstand the situation. 

Val. Really. Then I must be exceedingly stupid. 

How. I can imagine how the mistake arose. Judge Van 
Ryker, good-natured old creature, in his playful way drops 
certain hints — my dear old governor coincides — and I smile 
and simper at their raillery ; very vain and foolish of me, but 
what wouldn't I smile and simper at up to a very recent period 
— owing to a want of — of — a — a — coherency — that's it, co- 
herency ! in my thoughts or fancies, or feelings ? And that in- 
duced an appearance of apparent acquiescence, which may — 
might — have been misinterpreted, and for which I am un- 
feignedly sorry. 

Val. There seems to be a lingering want of coherency still. 



32 



TPIE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



How. 1 mean to be plain — and I will be. I never had a 
single thought of Miss Van Ryker. 

Val. Oil, stop ! stop ! I am not the person to tell that to. 
How. [Forcibly.] Yes, you are the person. I want you 
to know it, I wish you to understand. [Advances.] 

I r al. [Retreating, over."] I won't hear another word. You 

are speaking to me as if [JVervously.] 

How. [Eagerly.'] As if what ? 

Val. As if I were as incoherent as yourself, which I am 
not. I never smile and simper, and am never guilty of appar- 
ent acquiescence when I mean nothing. Good-by ! [ Offers 
her hand.] 

How. [Taking it.] Dear Mrs. Osprey ! Why, how my 
hand trembles ! or is it yours? [She snatches her hand away.] 
Please, don't go ; I have a sudden thought — you ought to 
know it now. But perhaps you don't care to hear anything 

more I have to say 

Val. [Sternly.] Well? 

How. You will hear it ? Thanks ! But I don't know how 
to express it, except by an illustration. Imagine you are 
seated at table — at a table d'hote. [She looks disappointed.] 
A dish is handed to you, which you decline, with a languid air. 
The waiter is going to take it to your neighbor, when you 
steal a glance at it. That looks tempting. You recall the 
waiter — you take it — it is delicious ! And you can't imagine 
why you ever refused it. That is what is happening to me 
now. [She looks interested.] At the very moment that you 
said " Good-by," a question came into my mind to which I 
can find no answer. 

Val. [In a low tone.] What question ? 

How. Everyone will say, here is a young, rich, and lovely 
creature who is yours if you only speak the word. [She looks 
at him sternly.] 

Val. Well, I declare ! 

Hon:. [ Unheeding her.] Why should I not speak that 

word ? Is there any reason why I should not go at once 

Val. Lieutenant Everett ! 

How. Go at once to Miss Van Ryker's father ? [He does 
not look at her, and she has a chance to recover her equanim- 
ity. Short pause ; then he half turns.] You don't answer. 

Val. There is no reason. Her father would say "yes," of 
course. But how about the mother? 

How. Mother ! She has no mother. 

Val. She has a friend who must be considered as care- 
fully. 



THE EAILEOAD OF LOVE 



33 



How Indeed ! I comprehend. [Bows.] 
Val. Perhaps you will allow this friend to put a question 
to you. 

How. I shall listen with reverential respect. Consider me, 
my dear madam, as asking for the hand of your — daughter. 
Catechise me unrestrictedly. 

Val. I have only one question — but I address it to your 
heart. 

Hoio. Oh ! I'm not prepared to go into the heart-business. 
It's extremely doubtful whether I have a heart. No one in the 
service, as far as 1 know, is troubled with one. Evidence of 
its existence is wanting. 

Val. Mere subterfuge. 

How. I think I ought to know. I may have had one, and 
have lost it. 

Val. Are you sure you have not squandered it ? 

How. Oh, no. Still something goes on ticking here as 
usual, but there are no works. Come — let's leave the heart. 

Val. You're right. Let us leave the heart. The more I 
think, the more I'm convinced that you have mislaid yours. 
And until you can make up your mind to forget self and pride, 
and everything else, and, carried away by feeling as by a tor- 
rent, fly to the object of your affection, drop on your knees, 
clasp her hand in yours, pour forth a flood of eloquence, 
and refuse to get up unless she falls on your neck and weeps 
for joy — until you can do this, you won't really know what 
heart is, and you can't know what love is. 

How. [Advancing.] Perhaps I can learn 

Val. No, no. [Going up.] 

How. Y~oic can teach me. 

Val. Never ! 

How. Why not ? You are to me 

Val. I am to you — I am only your — mother-in-law ! [Bows 
graciously and exits laughing, c] 

How. And I thought I knew womankind — thoroughly. I 
am an ignoramus. But the first thing is to get out of the 
muddle I'm floundering in here ; of course, it w^on't be easy. 
The simplest way is to go directly to the father. [Goes to door, 
c. resolutely, then pauses.] Or perhaps it would be better to go 
straight to the daughter. [Goes to e. u. e. resolutely, then 
pauses.] On further reflection, I had better go home and lay a 
regular plan of attack and retreat. [Goes to c] 

Benny. [Enters from e. u. e.] Oh, lieutenant, don't run 
away. 

How. [Nettled.] I'm not running away 
3 



34 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Ben. I know what you are here for. 
How. Do you ? 

Ben. You propose to propose to Vi'va. 

IIoic. You appear to take it very calmly. [yls£(7e.l Egad, 
perhaps I can stimulate him to cut me out. [Aloud.] Only 
a few days ago you revered the very ground she walked on — 
and now you seem disposed to let me have a walk-over. 

Ben. Oh, I shall interfere at the proper moment. 

How. You should have interfered some time ago. [Viva 
enters, r. u. e., unobserved,'] I don't understand your conduct, 
sir ; you owe me an explanation. When a man loves a girl 
he doesn't wait to declare himself until the family is about to 
announce her engagement to somebody else. As soon as you 
perceived my intentions you should have gone to the young 
lady, dropped on your knees, clasped her hands in yours, 
poured forth a torrent of eloquence, and refused to get up 
until she fell on your neck and wept for joy. That's the way 
to do it. 

Ben. [Coolly.'] That's the way I did it. 
How. You did ? 

Ben. Yes. When I made up my mind. 
How. Bravo ! [Slaps him on the bach] 
Ben. I've settled everything. 
Hov\ [ Clasps his hand.] You have ! 

Viva. [Advancing?] Yes, we've settled everything. 
Ben. My own ! my darling ! 

Viva. There's only papa to consider. 

How. [ Confidentially?] Well, let's begin to consider papa. 
Ben. What ? Will you stand by us ? 

How. My children, consider yourselves married. [To 
Bexxt.] Go home and leave the rest to me. 

Ben. I say, you're not going to try that waltz-business 
over again. 

How. Honor bright ! 

Ben. I dance this time, remember. [ Goes up.] She's my 
partner. [Throics a Jciss to Viva.] Good-by ! [Mcits, l. u. e. 

How. Charming fellow ! [To Viva.] I congratulate 
you. 

Viva. [Bashfidly.] What will you think of me ? 
Hoio. 1 shall always think of you as a dear little kitten. 
At the beginning of our acquaintance you showed me two 
dear little velvet paws — and now I find you coming to the 
scratch. 

Viva. Don't scold. This is the happiest day of my life, 
and I begin to like you exceedingly. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



3o 



How. Flattered, I'm sure. 

Viva. As I would like a friend, you know. [Crosses, l. 

How. Certainly. I shouldn't like to be liked as you'd like 
an enemy, no matter how Christian your disposition might be. 

Viva. Isn't it wonderful? I must talk to you, for I feel 
that if I didn't tell everything to somebody I should go wild. 
I knew I liked Benny, but I didn't know how much until I 
learned it from him. I've been laughing and crying — my 
heart is so full — so — so full ! [Bursts into tears, and involun- 
tarily lays her head on his shoulder. He smooths her hair, 
and glances toward door of Benny's exit.] 

How. [Aside.] I hope he won't come back. [Aloud, 
soothingly.] There, there — have a little cry — it'll do you 
good. 

Judge Van Ryker enters, c, sees them, throws up his hands, 
then runs off rubbing his hands vy'tth joy, and returns, 
dragging on General. 

Judge. There ! Look there ! 

Viva. [Screams.] Papa ! [Runs off, r. tj. e. 

Hoio. By Jove ! this is a pretty mess. 
General. [Advances.] My son ! 

How. Allow me ! [Trying to avoid him, runs into the 
Judge's arms.] 

Judge. Our son ! [Both take a hand, and he struggles to 
free himself as 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



ACT III. 

Scene. — An elegant apartment in Mrs. Osprev's city resi- 
dence. Door leading to her boudoir at back, r. c; also 
door of entrance at back, l. c. In cen tre of stage a divan 
and beside it a table, with a screen of photographs. Writ- 
ing-table with materials dovm r., near window. Time just 
past noon. 

Cherry, a very smart maid, appears in entrance at rear, 
directing Crusty, the man of all work, to bring in a 
large valise, hat-box, etc. 

Cherry. Put 'em right here, until Mrs. Osprey directs you 
where to take 'em. 



36 



THE KAILKOAD OF LOVE. 



( 'rusty. But [Looking round for a spot.] 

Cherry. Well, hold 'em in your arms till she comes. 

| Calls off.] This way, Mrs. Laburnam"; Mrs. Osprey will be 

here directly. 

Mrs. Laburnam enters, l.u.e., in travelling suit. 

Mrs. Ijobumam. Very good. Are you sure she's up yet ? 
It's only one o'clock, and you city people are such sleepers. 

Valentine enters from r., in morn ing wrap, etc. 

Valentine. Here I am to answer in person. 
Mrs. L. Oh, my dear ! [They embrace and kiss.] 
Val. [Brings her to sofa, c] Where do you drop from ? 
Mrs. JL. Surprise, isn't it ? 

Val. Why didn't you send a telegram ? I could have 
met you at the depot. 

Mrs. L. Much obliged, but I hate meetings and greetings 
at a depot. Here we can squeeze each other to our hearts' 
content. [Gives her a hug.] 

Crusty. Where shall I put the things, ma'am? 

Val. In the room off the parlor. Cherry, show the way. 
[Crusty and Cherry exeunt, l.. Cherry taking Mrs. L's hat, 
etc.] You'll stay with me, I hope. 
Mrs. L. If you care to have me ? 

Val. What a question ! Your usual room is waiting for 
you. And now tell me, if it's not a secret, what brings you 
to the city in such haste ? 

Mrs. L. First of all — winter's coming on, and the coun- 
try is as bare as a bald head ; second, I've nothing to do ; 
and third, I got this message yesterday. [Reads telegram.] 
" Come up at once to close for lots. Must be here in person. 
Other business also. Important. Signed, Adam Grinnidge." 

Val. Why, I know him. 

Mrs. L. Do you? Cousin by marriage; but don't put 
him on my list. Can't imagine what his " other important 
business " means ; and I know there's no hurry about the lots. 
But when I read those two little magic words on the tele- 
gram, " New York," I was seized with such a longing for the 
great, big, bustling, dear old city, that I cut the country, and 
here I am. 

Val. I hope you may enjoy it. It makes my head whirl 
here. 

Mrs. L. Makes your head whirl ? That's what I enjoy. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



37 



[Throws open the window, e., and inhales the air.] Oh, that 
delicious, noisy, rattling street. Oh, you bubbling, ever bab- 
bling Babylon ! How I love your ceaseless sounds. What a 
change from the eternal birds and crickets. [Inhales again,] 
And this air ! How thick, and muggy, and lovely — not a 
trace of ozone! [Closing the window.] How I hate that 
ozone ! 

Val. [laughs.] But ozone is very healthy. 

Mrs. Li. So am 1, therefore we don't agree. I take to bad 
city-air as a duck to water. 

Val. You're the same as ever. What a pity you never 
married again. Why don't you ? 

Mrs. L. [Sitting.] Well, my dear, it doesn't altogether 
rest with me. Perhaps I'd like to — but when one gets past 
a certain point 

Val. Are you fishing for a compliment ? 

Mrs. L. Not a bit of it. But I was saying, when we get 
old enough to know what's what, we wish to choose — and 
so do the others, unfortunately. Once upon a time I'd have 
had anybody. I was particularly fond of the military, though 

[Valentine rises. Mes. L. looks at her.] What's the 

matter with you ? 

Val. With me ? Nothing. 

Mrs. JL. Indeed ! We are not to exchange confidences, 
then ? [Rises.] 

Val. [Going to her.] That's unjust. At this moment, I 
long for a friend. 

Mrs. JO. I know it. [Valentine looks at her.] I noticed 
it by the way you received me. There was a certain some- 
thing in the way you kissed me. [Valentine turns away.] 
Oh, I pretend to know something about kisses. 

Val. [ Crossing away from her.] There ! Let's talk of 
something else. [Sits.] 

Mrs. L. [Sitting beside her.] Shall I tell you what your 
kiss revealed to me ? 

Val. It's purely imaginary on your part, I assure you. 

Mrs. L. [Solemnly.] Valentine, don't reject a friend 
when you most need one. Don't. Something is going on — 
what is it ? 

Val. Nothing. 

Mrs. L. I know better. There are lots of people angling 
for my little gold-fish. [Pinclies her ear.] 

Val. Oh, if you mean that, there are always two or three 
paying their addresses to my box in the safety-deposit vaults 
That's nothing. They find sooner or later that the box is 



38 



THE KAILKOAD OF LOVE. 



empty and, pouf ! they're off like thistle-down. But I don't 
think of them — now. [Checks a rising enthusiasm, as Mrs. 
Labtjrnam gives her a look and a smile.] I mean, I never 
give them a thought. 

Mrs. L. There is somebody. I congratulate you. [Cherry 
appears in door-way, l.] 

Cherry. Shall I unpack your things, ma'am ? 

Mrs. L. No ; I'm coming. [Cherry closes door, l., and 
exit, c. Mrs. Laburnam i*ises and takes Valentine's hand.] 
Now tell me just one word — his name. 

Vol. [Breaking from Iter.] I tell you there's nothing to 
tell — at least, not now. Wait. Give a body a chance. By 
and by. 

Mrs. L. Val ! Val ! I always said you were a lovely 
woman, but the way love becomes you 

Val. Now I fly. [Exit, confused and laughing, r. c. 

Mrs. L. It I thought it would improve my looks, I'd try it 
too. I would. But there's no doubt she's gone — heart, head, 
and heels. Who is the happy man ? 

Cherry enters, l. c, showing in Howell. She has a salver 
with a card on it. 

Cherry. I don't know, sir ; I'll see. [Howell gives her 
particular instructions at back.] 

Mrs. L. A young man with quite a military air. He's the 
lucky one. Oh, this New York ! I won't leave it this win- 
ter. [Exchanges bovis with Howell, and exit, l., with an ex- 
j>ression of delight.] 

Cherry. But she never receives anybody so early. 

Howell. Well, don't come away right off, if she says she 
won't see me. Just linger a moment — give her a chance to 
think twice. 

('/terry. When she says " not at home," she means it. 

Sow. I know. That's for people generally. If she says 
" not at home " now, repeat my name slowly and distinctly. 

Cherry. It would be as much as my place is worth. 

Sow. You shall retire on a pension. Don't be afraid. Be- 
sides, I will repeat your name with gratitude as long as I live. 

Cherry. Oh, captain ! [Going r.] 

Sow. By the way — what is your name ? 

( herry. Cherry, captain. 

How. It's a beautiful name ! I'm very fond of cherries. 
You won't forget my name ? 
Cherry. Oh no, captain. 



THE EAILKOAD OF LOVE. 



39 



How. No, not captain yet — lieutenant, merely. Hope to 
be captain — even general. But go along, and remember that 
I'm trembling over the verge of hope and despair. 

Cherry. Yes, lieutenant. [Going.] Oh, Missis can't 
have the heart to refuse him. [Exit, c. R. 

How. And here's where she lives. Everything about her 
as lovely as herself. [Viva speaks outside : " I'll find my 
way."] That's Miss Viva's voice. 

Viva enters, c. l. 

Viva. [Stops on seeing Howell.] Good heavens ! [About 
to retreat.] 

How. Oh, Miss Van Ryker ! flying from me ! What 
have I done ? [ Goes forward, and extends his hand.] 

Viva. [Avoiding his hand, and coming down quickly.] 
No, no, Mr. Everett; stay over there ! [Points to R.] We 
can't keep far enough from each other. 

How. Oh, I see. You are still thinking of our pretty 
group yesterday, and the discovery. It was a frightful dis- 
covery. We were caught. 

Viva. [Ashamed.] Lieutenant, it was the first time in 
my life. 

How. It was the first time in my life, too — that I was ever 
caught. What did your papa say? 

Viva. Papa ! Why, there's the mischief. He was de- 
lighted. He is still laboring under the horrible delusion that 
we are engaged. 

How. [Froions.] Didn't you tell him ? 

Viva. I didn't dare tell him anything ; I ran to my 
room, locked the door, and cried myself nearly blind, and this 
morning I stole out, and came to find Mrs. Osprey and ask her 
what on earth I'm to do. 

How. [ Quickly.] No, no. Don't tell her anything about 
it. [Soothingly.] Make your mind perfectly easy. I'll speak 
to your father at once, and I'll use every precaution not to in- 
volve you and not to hurt his feelings. 

Viva. [In tears.] Poor papa rejoices so much over our en- 
gagement. Oh, lieutenant, suppose we should have to get 
married to each other after all. [Approaching him, crying.] 

How. [Retreats.] For goodness' sake, compose yourself. 
That's exactly how it happened yesterday. 

Viva. What will become of Benny ? 

How. Benny ! [Recovers his nerves.] Oh, he'll bear up. 
Viva. You don't know how frightened the thought of him 
makes me. It all comes from a bad conscience. I saw him 



40 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



coming, round the corner as I ran up the steps, and I hid in 
the vestibule. Isn't that terrible — to have to fly from my own 
Benny? [Benny enters gayly. ] 
Benny. Aha ! I've caught you. 

Viva. [Gives a shriek and flies over from him.'] Oh, Ben- 
ny ! 

Ben. Did I frighten you ? [Xods to Howell.] Good 
morning. 

How. Good morning. [They shake hands.'] 
Viva. [Amazed.] What? 

Ben. [Going to her.] I actually fancied that you ran 
away from me. [Looks at her.] What a long face ! 
Viva. Oh, Benny ! if you knew r all. 

Ben. [Looks from one to the other.] Anything fresh oc- 
curred ? 

Viva. [Contritely^] Not to-day, but yesterday. 

Ben. Oh, I understand ! The discovery ! Weeping maiden 
on manly shoulder. Oh, yes, I know all about that. The 
lieutenant came to me at once and told me everything. We 
laughed ourselves hoarse. 

Viva. Why, you are not jealous any more. 

Ben. Well, not of him. Our army, though small, is en- 
tirely trustworthy. [ Takes Howell's hand.] Friends for life 
— eh, old fellow ? 

Hoio. Irrevocably pledged. 

Viva. Oh, how nice. 

Ben. And now I'll tell you both something to make you 
laugh. Who do you suppose has taken me to his bosom ? 
[To Viva.] Your papa ! 

Viva. That's impossible ! 

Sow. How did you manage it ? 

Ben. As soon as he supposed you two were engaged, he 
couldn't lavish too much kindness on your humble servant. 
I called last night to congratulate him, and he thinks me the 
best behaved and most sensible young man in town. He 
opened several bottles of champagne and assured me that he 
intended to make my fortune. We drank to everybody's health, 
and broke up at one o'clock. 

Viva. While I was crying myself to sleep alone in my 
room. Benny, I don't recognize you at all. 

Ben. I don't recognize myself. As I looked in the glass 
this morning, I inquired who that conceited rascal was — and 
guess what replv I got ? [Puts his arm round her.] 

Viva. What? 

Ben. [Taking her hand '.] That the fellow was the proud 



THE KAILROAD OE LOVE. 



41 



possessor of this dear little hand, and might be excused for 
his vanity, because in less than an hour he was privileged to 
cover it with kisses. [Kisses it ardently. Howell discreetly 
goes up, and turns his back on them.'] 
Viva. [Bashfully.'] Don't ! 

Ben. {Indicates Howell.] Isn't that a friend ? [Kisses 
her cheek.] Oh, what a lovely engagement we shall have — 
short, but sweet. 

Viva. Nothing is certain yet. 

Ben. Nothing but love. Oh, how you have inspired me ! 
I feel as if I could rival Raphael, Rubens, Phidias, Praxiteles 
— all of 'em ! [Suddenly.] Let's go for a drive in the park. 

Viva. Why? 

Ben. We won't be disturbed there — and I've so much to 
tell you. 

Viva. You can tell me on the way home — I must go now. 
Ben. Can I go with you ? 

Viva. [Indicates Howell.] You can't leave him! 

Ben. 1 can if you can. You're engaged to him. I'm not. 
Viva taps his cheek softly — they go up noiselessly. Howell 
turns and detects them in door-way as they are giving each 
other a parting kiss. 

How. Ahem ! 

Viva. Explain to him why I've got to go. [Exit, c. l. 

Ben. I will. [ Comes down to Howell, grasps his hand, 
shakes it, digs him in the side, winks at him, then departs 
without a word, and exits after Yiva.] 

How. How ingenious ! He'll overtake her at the bottom 
of the stairs. 

Cherry enters, r. c. 

Cherry. Mrs. Osprey begs you to excuse her for a few 
moments, and to look over the album in the meantime. 

How. Cherry, you are a messenger of joy. [Takes her 
head betioeen his hands. She disengages herself and points 
wamingly to door, r. Howell nods and points to door, r. 
Cherry nods and puts her finger to her lips.] I see ! [Very 
formal.] I will look at the album, Cherry, with impatience ; 
where is it, my good girl? 

Cherry. There, sir. [Points to table up c, and goes 
aside.] Isn't it all too romantic for anything ? [Exit, c. 
Howell opens album. Yalentine ope?is the door, r., 
cautiously, and holds it so as to remain imseen by the lieu- 
tenant, but wholly visible to audience. She is still in lace 
morning wrap.] 



42 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Valentine. Good morning, lieutenant. [She has a brush 
in her hand and appears to have interrupted her toilet. ] 

IIoic. [Jumps up from the table and closes the screen.\ At 
last, my dear Mrs. Osprey. 

Val. [Half closes door.] No — stay where you are, and 
look at the photographs. I can't let you see me. 

IIoic. But 

Val. I only came to say that Mrs. Osprey cannot receive 
you at such an early hour. She rises very late, and is still at 
her toilet. 

How. Oh, that's it — and I'm only to look at the pict- 
ures. 

Vcd. Very nice, aren't they ? How does the one on the 
last leaf please you ? 

How. [Opens screen and turns leaves rapidly.] I haven't 
got so far as that. [Looks at picture, delightedly^] It's she ! 
[Pulls it out and puts it in his pocket, then advances a step, 
holding up screen!] Why, there's none on the last leaf. 

Val What ? 

How. See for yourself. [Advances rapidly. She slams 
the door and disappears.] I beg a thousand pardons. [Shakes 
the knob gently.] I'll go away. [She reopens the door, par- 
tially.] I almost forgot. But look for yourself. [Shoics 
album with outstretched arm, and turning aside.] Nothing on 
the last page. See ! 

Val. [Aside.] The rascal ! [Aloud.] Will you put that 
picture back instantly ? 

How. Oh, I couldn't think of it. [ Goes and lays album 
back on table, open.] 

Val. I give you three seconds. One — two 

How. I'll make a proposition. I'll bring my portrait in ex- 
change. 

Val. [Threateningly^] Am I to shut the door? 
How. Not for the world. Here ! [Takes photo, out of his 
pocket and hands it. She half closes the door as he advances.] 
But it's very hard. 

Val. [Takes it.] And now, good-by ! I really have no 
time to waste. 

Hoio. Ah, that's too bad. 

Val. Why do you call at such an impossible hour? 

How. I don't know. I'm confusing the hours of the day 
and the night in a marvellous way, now. I found myself at 
two o'clock this morning in Union Square, and learned from 
a trustworthy witness that I had been promenading for an 
hour between Lafayette and Lincoln. 



THE EAILEOAD OF LOVE. 



43 



Val. And you keep me from an important consultation 
with my dressmaker to tell me such a story ? 

How. I've got something better to tell you. 

Val. Very well, I shall hear it with pleasure, but not now. 
You must call again at a more respectable hour. 

How. Make it early. 

Val. Well, say six o'clock. 

How. I shall be here at six punctually. And then — then 
I'll relate to you the end of my romance. [She smiles.] I 
hope you'll like it. 

Val. I trust so. [Softly.] 

How. Au revoir. 

Veil. Au revoir. [ Closes door. He instantly knocks.] 
How. Half a second more, please. [She opens the door.] 
They say you are literally rolling in wealth. Now, I'm starv- 
ing, but I — I never yet let a poor beggar leave my door 
empty-handed. 

Vol. [Smiles.] Indeed ! [Hands out the photo.] Here, 
you poor beggar. 

How. [Seizes it and retains her hand.] A thousand thanks. 

Val. [Pulling gently, and holding door.] What are you 
doing ? 

How. A good deed always gets its reward. [Kisses her 
hand.] 

Val. Impudence ! [ Withdraws her hand, and quickly 
presses it to her lips. Howell at same time kisses her pict- 
ure^ Good-by. [ Closes the door.] 

How. Good-by. She's mine ! Huzza ! [Turns to exit, 
c, and meets Scuttlebt, who enters at that instant.] Ah, 
Scuttleby, old boy, that you ? 

Scut. [Cynically.] Ah, Everett, old boy, that you? 

How. Scut, do me the favor to put on your glasses and 
look at me closely. Do you notice anything ? 

Scut. [Inspects.] Been on a spree last night ? 

How. No, but I'm fairly reeling with joy. 

Scut. Ah, yes, I've heard something about it. Yiva Van 
Ryker ! May I offer congratulations ? 

How. For heaven's sake, don't go about spreading that 
story. There isn't a word of truth in it. 

Scut. Pity ! There's a lot of money there. 

How. [ Confidentially^] I've done much better. 

Scut. What ? A richer one ? 

How. If 1 can get her, I wouldn't change with Croesus. 
Scut. [Admiringly.] You don't say ! 

How. My fate is to be settled this evening at six o'clock. 



44 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



"When you hear the stroke of six, if you love me, let your sin- 
ful soul breathe a prayer ; for at that hour, not my bliss alone 
but my life — you hear, old fellow, my life — will be decided. 

[Exit, c. 

Scut. The greatest mystery of this planet is how those 
penniless young- officers get rich girls. And sometimes pretty 
ones, too ! But when we plain business men try our luck ! 
[Throvs up his hands i?t despair and sighs.] 

Mrs. Laburnam enters l. without her cloak and hat, carrying 
in her hand a written list. Cherry also enters from c. 

Cherry. Did you ring, ma'am ? 

Mrs. Laburnum. Cherry, I want you to go to the nearest 
Elevated Railway book-stand and try to get me any or all of 
these books. I got the list from a paper. [Heads.] " New 
York and Vicinity" — "Thirty Miles around New York" — 
" Guide to New York and Westchester" — "How to see New 
York in Half the Time." 

Scut. [ Who has been manceuvring to get a sight of her 
face, ana finally recognizes her, steps forward as Cherry 
takes the list and is about to go up.] Don't ! Don't send for 
any of that rubbish. 

Mrs. L. [Amazed.] Sir ! 

Scut. The only reliable guide to New York stands before 
you. 

Mrs. L. [Recognizes him.] Mr. Scuttleby ! Is it possible? 

Scut. I recognized Miss De Rensseller at a glance. [Mo- 
tions to Cherry to get out.] 

Cherry. [Aside.] He calls her Miss De Rensseller. That 
must have been her maiden name. Oh, how I would like to 
stay. [Exit, c. l. 

JL'S. L. I'm afraid to think how many years it is since we 
met. And you remember me. 

Scut. I have an astonishing memory for handsome faces. 

Mrs. L. Oh, I haven't had anything like that said to me 
since I was twenty. 

Scut. Ah, I remember you at twenty ! And I always said 
your midsummer would realize the promise of your spring — as 
it does. 

Mrs. L. You haven't changed a bit. A compliment ready 
for every occasion, major ! 

Scut. Ah, no longer major, Miss De Rensseller. I gave up 
the militia when rheumatism took hold of me. 

Mrs. L. And you are not aware, perhaps, that the Miss 
became a Mrs. ? 



THE EAILEOAD OF LOVE. 



45 



Scut. Ah ! [Regretfully.'] 
'< Mrs. L. And soon after, a — widow. 
Scut, [Joijfully.] Oh ! 

Mrs. L. Do you remember our last meeting ? I do. 
Scut. Certainly — at Saratoga. It was the last hop of the 
season. You were lovely. I can tell you so now. 
Mrs. L. You told me so then. 

Scut. No doubt ; I always tell the truth. I recollect we 
strolled out in the park and stood by the spring in the moon- 
light. The soft breezes fanned your fluffy curls against my 
cheek, and I pressed a chaste kiss upon your marble 
brow. 

Mrs. L. No. you didn't. You never dared do that. 
Scut, Didn't I? 

Mrs. L. I never stood with you at a spring in the moon- 
light. 

Scut. [Aside.'] It must have been somebody else. That's 
bad — bad ! [Aloud.] I stood there — I remember that, per- 
fectly. [Suddenly.] Let me supply the omission. [Ad- 
vancing.] 

Mrs. L. You good-for-nothing ! [Retreating^] 
Scut, [Sighs.] Ah, the happy, happy hours ! Gone, 
all gone ! 

Mrs. JL. [Sits?] How dismal that sounds ! 
Scut. [Sits.] I have dismal moments. Within a few 
weeks, all may be over with me forever. [N-urses his knee.] 
Mrs. L. Why, what do you mean ? 

Scut. I'm to be married. I don't know the lady, but I 
feel in advance the reverence due to age. 

Mrs. L. .If you don't like it — why do you do it ? 

Scut. I don't do it — Grinnidge does it. Grinnidge is a 
friend of mine. 

Mrs. L. Grinnidge ! 

Scut. It's a cousin of his wife's — a Mrs. Eutycia some- 
thing. Do you know her ? 

Mrs. L. [Aside.] This is getting to be amusing. 

Scut. She belongs to an elder branch of the family — quite 
elder 

Mrs. L. Indeed ! 

Scut. Ever met her ? 

Mrs. L. Never met her. 

Scut. She's rich. 

Mrs. L. And you want her money ? 
Scut. No, I don't want it. 
Mrs. L. That's better. 



40 



THE RAILROAD OF LOYE. 



Scut. Grinnidge wants it. The fact is, Grinnidge holds 
my notes, you understand. 

Mrs. L. [Aside.] This was the "important business" he 
telegraphed me about. The wretch offers up his wife's cousin 
as a sacrifice to his cupidity. 

Scut. My intended has been telegraphed for. 

Mrs. I. She may not come. 

Scut. Oh, yes, she will. And if I have the good luck to 
please the venerable relic, I'm married — doomed. 

Mrs. L. Cheer up. She may be quite a tolerable person. 

Scut. It's awfully good of you to encourage me, but it's 
not my luck. Grinnidge didn't enthuse particularly on that 
point. He even dropped the remark, yesterday, that there was 
a charm about every age — if you could only find it. The 
trouble I expect is — to find it. 

Mrs. L. So it won't be a love-match — only a business-bar- 
gain. 

Scut. Well, mixture of both. She finds the love 

Mrs. I. [Interrupts.] And you mean the business. [Of- 
fers her hand.] I congratulate you. 

Scut. It's not worth while. [Grinnidge is heard outside, 
saying: "I'll go right up."] [Mrs. Laburnam and Scut- 
tleby both rise.] 

Grinnidge enters, c. 

Grinnidge. [Advancing gayly to Mrs. Laburnam.] I have 
just heard of your arrival. How do you do ? 
Scut. [Alarmed.] Why, Adam 

Grin. [Aside to him.] Here she is, my boy. Your 
bride ! 

Scut. What ! 

Mrs. L. [Introducing herself] Mrs. Eutycia something, 
major. 

Grin. Mrs. Eutycia Laburnam — Scuttleby. 
Scut. Downed again ! [Falls against sofa, c] 
Mrs. L. Tableau ! 

Scut. [Trying to apologize?^ I'm exceedingly — I beg you 
to believe that I never — well, I throw myself on your mercy. 
What can I do ? 

Mrs. L. [Laughs.] There's one thing you are not likely to 
do — sacrifice your precious life at the altar, just yet. 

Vdl. [Enters, r., dressed. Surveys the scene; all silent.] 
What's the matter? 

Mrs. L. My dear, the sensation of my life. Only fancy ! 
[Takes her apart to tell her.] 



THE EAILEOAD OF LOVE. 



47 



Grin. [Crosses to Scuttleby.] She seems to be in a very 
good humor. Now's your time. The train is waiting for you. 
Limited express ! Jump aboard. Follow her up. 

Scut. [Furious, but in low tone.] Follow her up ! You're 
an ass. [Valentine and Mrs. Laburnam burst out laughing.] 

Grin. What are the ladies laughing at ? 

Scut. Me — me, you fool — don't you see that it's all up ? 
There's been a collision on the road — a regular smash-up. I 
don't know whether I am among the killed or missing. 

Grin. Oh, I'm sorry for that. Well, we must try some- 
where else. Take the next train. 

Scut. No ; I think I'll take the steamer next time. But 
you needn't trouble yourself any more to dispose of me, I 
withdraw the property. 

' Grin. But the notes, Scut, the notes. How about your 
notes ? 

Scut. You shall have your money, confound it, if — if — if I 
have to pay you myself. Good morning. [ Goes up.] 

Grin. [Following him and taking letter from pocket.] My 
wife wrote me to give you her regards, and 

Scut. [Turning on him.] Please have the goodness to 
return them — [Taking his hand.] — personally ! 

Grin. Thank you. I will, old fel. [Scuttleby comes 
down again ; Grinnidge goes to take leave of the ladies awk- 
wardly. ] Good afternoon, Mrs. Osprey. Good afternoon, 
Eutycia ; I'll see you again. Don't be hard on — [Awed by 
her stern look, exit, c] 

Scut. [Aside.] That fellow is my evil genius. I try to 
marry him, and he's married already. He tries to marry me, 
and it comes to a separation before we're engaged. It's no 
use. I'm a wreck. I'm going to drift. 

Val. [ Coming forvmrd with Mrs. Laburnam, both laugh- 
ing.] You don't appear to be happy in your match-making, 
cousin. 

Scut. [ Gloomily.] Have your laugh out, ladies. It's the 
last you'll have at my expense. 
Mrs. L. How so ? 

Scut. This kind of fun is killing. I can't stand it. There's 
a change working in me. You may not believe it, but I ac- 
tually feel ashamed of myself — for the first time. 

Mrs. L. Nonsense ! 

Scut. Yes, I'm ashamed of myself. I always had the 
knack of keeping my head up, whatever happened. But some- 
thing has given way, and I can't brazen this out. You've 
caught me, and I acknowledge it. 



48 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Val. Bravo ! 

Scut. ( To -Mrs. Laburnam.] I'm getting crooked, but it's 
your fault. 

Mrs. L. Mine ! 

Scut. Yes, yours. If you had been at the spring at 
the right moment, that moonlight night, who knows what 
might have happened ? I know I'd make a good hus- 
band. I'm as quiet as a mouse — always go out early — 
never want any dinner at home — never make any noise 
when I do come home — and I've always wanted to get mar- 
ried. But I'm not in the market any more. I begin a new 
life. 

Val. How ? 

Sent. I don't know yet — but first, I'll pay my debts — I'll 
sell out. Sell everything — furniture, pictures, horses, houses ; 
I forgot — my houses are gone already. That'll pay about 
half. As to the other half 

Val. Well, if you are in earnest, Cousin Phenix, you know 
you needn't go far to find the balance. 

Scut. I won't go a step. No, you've paid for me over and 
over again, and never asked for it. I'm much obliged to you, 
Cousin Val, but it wasn't good to yourself or to me. It made 
me reckless. You've got that to answer for. I can't say I 
have any confidence left in you. No, I'm going to somebody 
who'll make me pay. 

Mrs. L. But where will you find anybody ? 

Scut. Oh, I've got a friend. 

Mrs. L. [Nettled] Indeed ! 

Scut. He's one of the lucky dogs of this planet. He's go- 
ing to marry a female Croesus. It's to be settled at six o'clock 
this evening. [Valentine looks surprised.] At half-past six 
I'll be at his elbow. When a man marries millions he can't re- 
fuse to lend a few thousand. When I've got that off my mind, 
I'll buckle down to work. 

Mrs. L. What work? 

Scut. Don't know. But I suppose my slice of bread is 
waiting somewhere for me to earn it. To-night I'm going to 
sit down in my room, over a good cigar and a bottle of cham- 
pagne, and think. 

Val. Hem ! 

Scut. That's when the ideas come to me ! After that, if 
I don't see my way clear to earn anything with what I know, 
then I'll go to work and learn something else — eh? [Looks 
from Valentine, who is gravely pulling at her fan with down- 
cast eyes, to Mrs. Laburnam, who is equally grave. He hes- 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



49 



itates and falters a little.] Or, do you think, I'm — I'm too old 
to learn ? 

Vol. [Heartily.] Cousin Phenix, I believe I've done you 
an injustice sometimes. But I was not the only one. Don't 
be downhearted. You need friends. I have needed them a 
long time. Now I begin to find one or two. [Offers her hand 
to him.] 

Scut. Thank you. Who's the other ? [Valentine laughs 
and goes up, as Cherry enters with a card and hands it to 
her, then exits at a sign from her.] 

Mrs. L. Major, I'll make you a proposition. 

Scut. What is it ? 

Mrs. L. I'm a business-woman. Two heads are better than 
one — suppose you ask me to supper somewhere this evening, 
and we'll both think a think over that bottle of champagne 
together. 

Scut. Good ! Not half a bad idea. 

Mrs. L. I have to meet Grinnidge and attend to a little 
business near by. You can call for me. Then suppose we go 
to the theatre afterward. I suppose there's something worth 
seeing somewhere, eh ? 

Scut. [Delighted?^ Capital — I'll do it. Oh, you are a 
business-woman. [Going.] I'll run and get the tickets at 
once. Au revoir, ladies. [Stops at door.] I had intended to 
turn over a new leaf to-day — but what's the odds, I'll begin to- 
morrow. [Exit, c. l. 

Mrs. L. Now, I must go and get ready. Will you come ? 

Vol. [Holding up card.] Sorry, I can't. Somebody is 
here and waiting to give me a lecture. 

Mrs. L. Perhaps he'll be over it when I come back. If 
not, remember you're engaged for the evening. [Exit, l. 

Vol. [Touches a bell, and looks at card.] Judge Van Ry- 
ker. Now for a scolding ! I neglected my sentry-duty, yester- 
day. [Cherry shows in Judge Van Ryker, c. and then exits.] 
I know what you're going to say. [Gives him her hand.] I 
deserve it all. I didn't succeed in keeping Viva and Benny 
apart, nor in bringing the lieutenant to her feet. 

Judge. Don't say one word. You succeeded admirably. 
I'm ever so much obliged. 

Vol. I don't understand. 

Judge. You hadn't been gone from the house half an hour, 
when I came in and found my daughter in the arms of the 
lieutenant. 

Vol. What ! What lieutenant ? 

Judge. What lieutenant ? Why, young Everett. In his 
4 



50 



THE KAIL HO AD OF LOVE. 



arms and sobbing with joy on his bosom, and he soothing her 
as only a lover can. Nothing was wanting but my blessing, 
and I gave it. 

Val. Are you telling me a fairy tale? 

Judge. I can't explain it, unless Viva, seeing how bent I 
was on the match, and convinced by your arguments 

Val. My arguments ! [Suppressing her feelings and half 
gasping in anger.'] 

Judge. And overcome by the gallant lieutenant's broad- 
side of entreaties, gave up and accepted the inevitable. 

Val, [ Who has taken a stride up and, down, now stops and 
presses her hand to her head.] I don't comprehend it. 

Judge. You can imagine my joy. I had set my heart on 
that match, for the fellow bewitched me. I've lain awake, 
night after night, dreaming of him for a son-in-law, just as 
you'd dream of him for a husband 

Val. [Hysterical.] I — I dream of him — you mistake if 
you think I 

Judge. I beg pardon. I only said it to illustrate. But 
let me tell you the whole story. I sat up late last night and 
figured what I'd give her, and how they'd live, when, all of a 
sudden, in the stillness of the night, it seemed to me as if a voice 
whispered: "Are you sure she'll be happy?" It had never 
struck me before. If her mother had been living, she would 
have thought of that. Perhaps she put the thought into my 
head. At all events, I rose up and went to Viva's room, and 
there was her light burning and she not gone to bed, but ly- 
ing on the sofa and crying fit to break her heart. Well, at 
the sound of her sobs I felt as if they had been married, and 
he had begun to ill-treat her. And I began, ha, ha ! I began 
to hate him — actually to hate him. You can't understand 
that, can you ? [ Goes to her.] 

Val. [Vindictively Possibly 1 can. 

Judge. Then I recollected that I found her crying in his 
arms, and I thought perhaps he knew she would be miserable 
with him, and yet that he would marry her. Marry her, con- 
found his cold-hearted, calculating selfishness — marry her for 
— for her money. 

Val. That was only your fancy, though. [xSVte.] 
Judge. Was it ? It's not often a young fellow can hook 
such a gold-fish as my daughter. Well, this morning my 
mind was made up, and I meant to end the whole business — 
so I posted off to my gentleman, and told him I thought it 
was only fair to inform him that I was not as rich as people 
thought me, — Lord ! you should have seen him turn red and 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



51 



pale, and then try to wriggle out gracefully, mumbling some- 
thing about my being mistaken in his intentions. I helped 
him, you may be sure of that, and we parted — we parted good 
friends, but forever. I tell you, my dear, we've both been 
mistaken in that young man. 

Val. I begin to think so too. [Rises.] 

Judge. But the scales have fallen from my eyes. He'll 
simply flatter and fib to every girl till he gets the richest, and 
then fling the others over. But he won't get mine. I'm go- 
ing to have no tears in my house. Come round and help me 
to cheer Viva. Bring your merriest laugh, for there never 
was a woman as jolly as you are. Oh, how you see through 
such fortune-hunters, eh ? [Gives her his hand.] 

Val. Yes, sooner or later. 

Judge. And you can hold me to this solemn promise — I'll 
never interfere with my daughter's love-affairs again. She 
may marry any honest, industrious, good-mannered young man 
she fancies. I've said it, and I'll stick to it — and to him. 
Good-by. [Exit, c. l. 

Val. [Remains in thought a moment, sinking into a chair, 
c. Then she suddenly starts up.~\ I won't believe it. To be 
here at one instant with an avowal trembling on his lips, and 
to speak with a voice that would make distrust melt away as 
ice in sunshine ; and yet, but a few hours before, to have held 
another woman in his arms and talked to her of marriage ! 
It is hypocrisy beyond belief. [Takes a few steps to l.] No, 
I'll rather believe that I have deceived myself — that it was a 
jest. I can punish him for that, but I need not despise him. 
[Looks at clock.] Only a quarter of an hour. He is to re- 
turn at six. 

Scuttleby enter s c, gayly. 

Scuttleby. I've got the tickets. I can promise you a royal 
night. [Looks at loatch.] Nearly six. What time are you ? 
[_Looks at clock.] By Jove ! my fate's to be decided at six. 
Are you sure your clock's right? 

Val. [Sudden thought.] Cousin Phenix, let me ask you a 
question. 

Scut. Certainly. 

Val. You spoke of a friend from whom you expected help ? 
Scut. Yes. 

Val. And he was going to propose for the hand of a very 
wealthy person ; have I got it right ? 
M Scut. Yes. That's it/ 



52 



THE KAIL ROAD OF LOVE. 



Val. You know all about him, of course. Tell me, had he 
not offered himself to another lady ? 
Scut. Oh, but that's off. 

Val. Because he found a richer prize ! And he is to se- 
cure her at six o'clock ? 
Scut. Exactly. 

Val. And the name of this paragon of honor is Lieutenant 
Everett ? 

Scut. Well, but 

Val. That will do. You see I know the whole story. 

Scut. If you know the lady, I hope you won't let on about 
this. That would be a very poor joke to play on him. 

Val. Don't be alarmed. Lieutenant Everett and I know 
now far to carry a jest. If not, we should soon be taught. 
[Touches a bell. Aside.] My picture ! I will have that back, 
and that ends it. [IVrites.] 

Scut. Now, what in thunder is she up to? Writing. To 
whom? [Looks at watch.'] Three minutes to six. She can't 
do any mischief in three minutes. The devil himself couldn't 
bedevil anybody in three minutes. 

Val. [Beads what she has written. Still aside.] " I thought 
I had given my picture to a man who was at least worthy of 
respect ; you thought you had asked it of a woman who pos- 
sessed a large fortune. We were both mistaken. Send back 
my portrait and let us drop the curtain on the farce." ( Folds 
letter and writes address, touching bell again sharply. Mrs. 
Laburnam enters l., dressed to go out.] 

3frs. Laburnam. Well, my dear, will you come with us ? 

Cherry enters, c. 

Val No. 

Mrs. L. Why, what's the matter ? 

Vol. [Places her finger on her lips, and gives the letter to 
Cherry.] Take this letter to its address. Go yourself, and 
at once. [Cherry takes the letter^] 

Scut. I'd give a hundred dollars to see that address. 
[Picks up his hat and turns suddenly, as Cherry comes 
from Valentine with the letter in her outstretched hand. 
He does this so suddenly as to brush the letter from the girVs 
fingers.] 

Cherry. Oh ! 

Scut. I beg pardon. [Picks up letter, reads its address and 
hands it to her.] 

Cherry. Yes, sir. [Exit c, tittering. 

Scut. [Aside.] To Everett ! 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



53 



Val. [Aside to Mrs. Laburnam,] I must be alone — take 
him away, and keep him. 

Mrs. I. That's asking a good deal. But for a limited 
period — anything to oblige. [To Scuttleby.] Well, sir. 

Scut. At yo ur service. \ Aside i] To Everett ! Then she 
doesn't know the lady. Scuttleby, you're safe — safe, my 
boy, this time. [Exit c, gallantly, toith Mrs. Laburnam. 

Val. It will take Cherry five minutes to reach his hotel. 
That will be time enough to prevent his coming. [Sits at 
fireside, her head leaning on her hand.'] I won't see him 
again ; I cannot. At all events; I am punished for my folly. 
With every other man I've been on my guard. [Clock strikes 
six, slowly.] With this one I stood like a child with open 
hands, and trusted him. Yes, I am punished. [She stops at 
the last stroke of the clock, and at the same moment Crusty 
appears, c] 

Crusty. Lieutenant Everett, ma'am. 

Vol. [Starts up.] He ! [About to speak; checks herself.] 

Crusty. [JVot understanding her.] Ma'am ? 

Val. [Aside.] I will see him. [To Crusty.] Show him 

in. [Crusty exits.] He wishes to play the game to the end. 

So be it. It may be amusing. [Howell enters, shown in by 

Crusty.] 

Howell. [In a formal tone.] Mrs. Osprey ! [Crusty exits, 
and he advances a step, and in a warmer tone.] At last I 
find you alone. [As he advances, she unconsciously withdraws 
a step.] You smile at my haste, my impetuosity. It's not 
like me, as you have known me, but I flew up the stairs three 
steps at a bound, and I don't know whether I've got my breath 
or my senses yet. But I beg you to hear me — will you ? 

Val. [Coolly.] Certainly. Pray speak. [They sit.] 

How. [Puzzled at her tone.] I beg your pardon if I don't 
begin in the cold, conventional way. [ Warming by degrees.] 
But I fear I've thrown everything to the winds — prudence, 
caution, all but honest, straightforward purpose. If I stop 
to choose my words I know I shall stammer like a school-boy. 
Once in every man's life he feels humble, he don't know himself, 
he descends to beg, and I beg that you will listen to me, and 
with the same candor I shall use in saying what I have to say. 

Val. [Looking steadily at him.'] I will. 

How. [Confounded.] You will — [looks around in a lost 
way.] Somehow the place seems to have changed since I 
was here last. It's in the air. Something weighs on me. I 
flew here thinking that I only needed to see you, and the 
words would flow like a torrent. And now, as you look at me, 



54 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



I feel under a spell — your words blow out everything that 
was lighted in me. Please don't look at me that way. It's 
not like you — not at all like the glance that falls on me from 
this picture. [Produces portrait.] 

Veil. [Snatches it from him.] Ah ! my portrait! 

How. I don't understand 

Val. Then understand me now, sir. If you have thought 
to favor me with the love you give and take as it suits your 
purpose, banish the incredible egotism or stupidity that 
prompted such an idea from this instant. Could you sup- 
pose a game so transparent was not certain of detection, and 
when detected would not be as certainly destroyed as I destroy 
this picture ? [Tears it in pieces and throws it on the carpet.} 
And now — leave me. 

How. [Seizes her passionately. ~\ Leave you ! Now, just 
when you have shown me that you love me, and love me more 
than I could dare hope for ? Never ! 

Val. [Struggling to free herself] I love you ! 

How. Yes, As sure as I adore you and as sure as I never 
gave a thought to that other. 

Val. [Releasing herself.'] It is not true. 

Hoio. True, I swear it. True as the fact that I had only 
one fear in speaking to you — the fear that you could not, 
would not say "yes" at the price that "yes" would cost you. 

Val. What price ? 

How. The loss of your whole fortune. 

Val. [Turning quickly.] You knew that? 

How. I knew it before i ever saw you. I knew that you 
would have to become poor to make me endlessly rich. That 
made me hesitate — for what have I to offer in return ? No- 
thing — nothing but a poor devil's love, a poor devil's heart 
and home. 

Val. [Aside.] Oh, what have I done ? That letter ! that 
letter ! [Cherry enters at c, carrying a letter in her hand. 
She rushes up to her, and seizes it.] You have not delivered 
it? 

Cherry. Yes'm. That's the old gentleman's answer. 

Val. [Aside to her, breathlessly.] The old gentleman's ? 

Cherry. He was just coming out of the house and he took 
it, and as he saw it was addressed to " Mr. Everett," and noth- 
ing more 

Val. And you gave it to him ? 

Cherry. He took it and opened it. 

Val. That will do. [ Waves her off. Cherry exits 
amazed. Valentine opens the letter^] 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



55 



How. You seem agitated. Can I be of service ? 

Val. [Avoiding him.'] Oh, no, no, no ! It is nothing. 
[Heads letter aside.] " From the address of your letter, I 
thought it was meant for me and opened it. I shall take 
pleasure in handing it to my son, for whom I presume the 
insult — [She shudders.] — to be intended." [She crumples the 
letter, and staggers against a chair.] 

How. There is something ; you can hardly stand. Let me 
know. Let me 

Vol. I beg of you, don't ask me. [Aside.] I must see 
his father — explain — get that letter, and keep the knowledge 
of it from him. [Aloud.] Excuse me, Mr. Everett, I don't 
wish to seem rude, but I have just received a letter which I 
must answer in person — I must go at once 

How. [Bowing, as if to go.] In that case 

Val. [Detains him by a gesture?^ No, no. You must not 
go ; and, least of all, with such a look ! [Beseechingly '.] 
Won't you — wait for me ? 

How. I ! 

Val. Till I come back ; then, and not till then, can I give 
you an answer to your — to what you have said. 

Hotc. [Trying to take her hand.] Oh, in that case 

Val. [ Withholding it.] Afterward, when I come back. 
I will find you here, won't I? [Entreating.] 

How. If I only knew 

Val. But you cannot know — yet. 

How. And you expect me to sit here quietly — and wait ! 
I can't stand suspense — I never could. 

Vcd. [Nervously.] I know ; I'm just the same myself. 
My nerves twitch, and I'm all in a fever — but I calm myself. 

How. Yes, but I can't calm myself. 

Val. [Looking round for something to set him to work at.] 
Oh, yes ! It was only last night — I was sitting here, thinking 
and thinking. 

How. Last night ! I was thinking and thinking, too, last 
night. Of whom were you thinking ? 

Val. [Shyly.] I sha'n't tell you. But as I was looking 
round for something to fix my mind upon — something to dis- 
tract me — [She is looking about her.] — my eyes fell upon this em- 
broidery. [Picks up a frame of embroidery from the writing- 
table.] I had commenced it once, but found there was a flaw 
in the design, and I threw it aside, but last night I set myself 
to find it. I didn't succeed. Perhaps you can. This way, 
you see. You begin and count — one, two, three — cross ; one, 
two, three — and cross; and I went on for hours and hours. — [He 



56 



THE KAILROAD OF LOVE. 



looks up from the work to her.'] I didn't discover the mistake, 
but I grew calmer. \FaUers^\ Won't you try it ? 

How. You propose to have considerable fun at my expense. 

Val. It is not a jest. It's a favor. It's the only favor I 
ever asked of you. Please give me your hat, and take my em- 
broidery. [She takes his hat and gives him the work. She 
runs and hides his hat in the cabinet, while he gazes helplessly 
at the work.] 

How. But suppose somebody comes in. 

Vol, I'll leave word that nobody is to come in. 

IIoic. [Gazes at work hetylessly.] I can never go through 

it. 

VctL [Coaxes.'] It's so easy. One, two, three — cross! 
There, sit here. 

How. [Sits o?i sofa.] How is it, again ? One, two, three — 
[He looks up.] 

Val. Cross ! That's it. Splendid ! Begin again. [They 

go over the work together.] 

Hoth. One, two, three — cross. 

How. [Looks up.] You'll be back soon ? [She nods, and 

points to work.] One, two, three 

Val. I'll be back very soon. 
How. [NbdsJ] Cross ! 

Val. Cross ! No, as happy as possible. [He is about to 
seize her ha? id.] Go on. 

How. I am going on. One, two, three — I've lost my place. 
Val. [She pats his shoulder, and he tries to kiss her hand.] 
You're doing splendidly. [ Goes to door.] 

How. [He nods and. goes on.] One, two, three — cross. 
Vcd. [Pausing at door.] No, I can't go away. Howell ! 
How. Yes ! [He jumps -up.] 

Val. I don't know what I may say when I come back, but 
you shall know now that I thought of you, that you were al- 
ways before me, that the dearest sound to me was your voice, 
that I could die only to hear you say again what you have 
said to me to-day. 

How. Would you ? Shall I say it again and again ? 
[Tries to take her to his arms.] 

Vcd. Xo, no. Wait. Wait here. Wait until I return. 

Hoic. Say no more. I'm the happiest ! [Flies back to 
his work, and picks up embroidery cheerfully.] One, two, 
three — cross. One, two, three — cross ! [She flies to the 
door and waves kiss after kiss to him as the 



CURTAIN FALLS. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



57 



ACT IV. 

Scene. — Library at General Everett's. A few book-cases. 
In the centre a draped pedestal, tvith a copy of the bust of 
Hermes by Praxiteles, a fireplace down r., and a screen 
beside it. Easy sofa, c. Doors, r, and l. Window up r. 

The General enters from door at l., with Viva hang- 
ing on his arm. She is in hat and street costume. 

Viva. Now, general, you know everything, and I want 
you to tell me candidly if you don't think me a dreadfully 
wicked girl. 

General. It would be against all my principles to harbor 
such a thought. But I will say that you deserve the same 
scolding that I gave my son this morning. How could you 
two young people have the heart to hoodwink your father 
and me so — so 

Viva, [Shyly.] Completely ? 

Gen. Unjustifiably ! We had nothing in view but your 
happiness. 

Viva. And I had nothing in view but the same thing ex- 
actly. And who was the best judge ? 

Gen. I don't know what Judge Van Ryker will say, but I 
forgive you. I couldn't help it. You have a pair of advocates 
in your head which there is no resisting. 

Viva. Then let them plead for my papa, too. He intends 
to call on you ; that's why I came beforehand, to prepare you. 
I was afraid, at first, but as soon as I heard at the door the 
lieutenant was not in, I took courage. 

Gen. Then you are not at all afraid of me ? 

Viva. Oh, no. I rely on my two advocates. 

Gen, You're a little witch, and somebody's son will be a 
happy fellow when he gets you. [Tom, a black footman, 
enters, with two cards on a salver, which he hands to the Gen- 
eral.] Excuse me one moment. [Heads cards.'] Mrs. La- 
burnam — Mr. Grinnidge. 

Viva. [Crosses, l., alarmed.] Oh, dear ! [Aside to Gen- 
eral.] I don't wish them to see me here. 

Gen. It's only a business-visit. The lady is going to buy 
a piece of property from me. I can show them into my study. 
Wait here. [To Tom.] Ask the lady and gentleman in. 
[Tom exits.] Sit here. [Arranges screen at fireplace > and 
she sits concealed from above.] 



58 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Viva. Am 1 safe here ? 

Gen. Perfectly. [He (joes c, to meet Mrs. Laburnam 
and Grinnidge, who enter, r. c] 

Grin nidge. [Introducing.] General Everett, Eutycia. [To 
( i i:m:i; a i.. | My c ousin, Mrs. Laburnam. 

Gen. I have heard of punctual business-men, madam, but 
you are a model for both sexes. [Indicates door, l.] The 
papers are all in there, and a notary is waiting. 

Mrs. Labumam. Glad to hear it. I like to go right to 
the point at once. Has Adam arranged all satisfactorily ? 

Gen. Everything. Will you read the documents over 
until I come? [Shows the way, l. ; opens door.~\ 

Mrs. L. [Taking off 'her (/loves as she follows.] Certainly. 
Fingers a little cramped, but 1 think I can make a tolerable 
autograph. This way? Thank you. Come, Adam. [Exit 
with Grinnidge, l. d.] 

Gen. [ Coming to Viva.] Now you can come out. 

Viva. Then I think I'd better escape while there's time. 
[ Comes c] I've kept you too long already, but you are so 
kind. [ Offers her hand. He takes it.] But it seems to me 
that you look hurt, or troubled, or worried. I'm not the 
cause, am I ? 

Gen. No, it's a letter 1 received just now. A strange 
letter ! [Brightening.] Never mind that. You don't know 
how sorry I feel that I'm not going to have you for a daugh- 
ter. Might I dare ask the name of the lucky fellow who has 
outflanked my boy in your affections ? [She hangs her head.] 
Well, never mind his name. What does he look like ? 

Viva. Oh, he's very handsome. Would you like to see him ? 

Gen. Oho, you have him in that locket already ? [Points 
to her locket.] 

Viva. [Reproachfully.] No. [Archly.] But if you 
were just to glance out of the window, I think you'd see him 
waiting on the corner. [Goes to window, %ip r.] 

Gen. [Reaches window before her.] In the street — all this 
time? 

Viva. [As General looks out.] He had to — I told him 
to. Do you see him ? Why, he isn't there. Why, where is 
he ? [Looks out of ivindow, then back to General.] Why, 
general, where is he ? 

Gen. [Laughing.] I don't know. [Roth look out.] 

Viva. Not a sign of him. Oh dear ! I wish I hadn't 
left him alone. He may be lost. 

Gen. He must be somewhere there. [Both look out of 
window. Benny appears in door, c] 



THE EAILROAD OF LOVE. 



59 



Benny. Viva, am I to wait any 

Viva. [Hushes to him.] Oh, here be is. 

Gen. [Gravely. ~\ We were frightfully alarmed. 

JBen. How do you do, general ? Pardon my abrupt visit — 
but as Viva didn't return in twenty minutes, as she promised 
— [JK/isses her hand.] — you'll excuse me, I hope. 

Gen. Certainly, when one hasn't seen one for twenty min- 
utes. [Returns to window.] 

Viva. Now, Benny, let us distinctly understand. After we 
are married I'm to be a dutiful wife, but when I tell you to 
wait anywhere, you mustn't stir from the spot. 

JBen. It's a bargain — after we're married. 
Gen. [Leaving window.] Young people, I don't know 
how you are prepared for the information, but I have just 
seen Judge Van Ryker coming down the street. 

Viva. [Alarmed, to Benny.] Oh, dear ! I ought to have 
gone at once. [To General, crossing c] Papa doesn't know 
anything as yet about us two. 

Gen. Very well, then, suppose you wait in here — [Goes to 
door, r., down stage.] — until I hear what he has to say to me. 

JBen. [ Crosses, c] Thank you, general. How thought- 
ful of you. Come, Viva. 

Viva. No, sir ! you stay here. [Exit, r. 

Ben. I will, as long as I can. [Judge Van Ryker enters, 
r. c. ; General meets him. They shake hands. Van Ryker 
is quite nervous.] 

Judge. Ah, Everett, hope you're well. [Sees Benny, and 
effusively.] Ah, Mr. Demaresq. 

Ben. How do you do, sir ? [Somewhat mechanically.] 

Judge. [Looks at him, then turns to General.] I wanted 
to call ; I never was so shocked in my life. That young scor- 
pion, to beat us so. 

Gen. [Cheerfully.] Oh, we'll get over it. We've seen 
some rougher weather in our time. [They get confidentially 
together, and sit, c. Benny picks up a book and sits, r., dis- 
tracted between the book and the door.] 

Judge. Who could have foreseen that my girl, instead of 
being dead in love with your son, was all along alive to the 
attentions of that young scamp over there. I never felt so 
flat. 'Pon my life and soul, Everett, I feel cheap, I do indeed. 

Gen. Let's forget all about it and laugh over the story in 
a quiet way. We remain friends as before. 

Judge. And you don't bear any grudge ? [General 
shakes his head, and offers his hand.] And your boy ! I've 
heard it hinted that he's looking somewhere else. [General 



60 



TIIK KAIL ROAD OF LOVE. 



draws himself up and withdraws his hand.] Well, well, I 
don't mean to be inquisitive ; I only wanted to be sure that he 
is really looking in another quarter. [General rases.] Only 
to be certain, you know, that he doesn't grieve after my Viva 
— that's all — that's all. [Pats General on shoulder.'] That's 
all, I assure you. And now tell me what you think of that 
young chap over yonder. Fine, manly fellow, eh ? I want 
you to like him. He's perfectly crazy after my Viva. You'll 
see. I'll draw him out. [Aloud, so as to be heard by Benny.] 
No, no, I have no fixed plans with regard to my daughter's 
hand as yet. [ Winks at General. Benny lowers his book 
and listens.] I don't think it would be hard to find a good 
son-in-law. [Turns to Benny.] Do you, Mr. Demaresq ? 

Ben. [Assumed indifference.] I really can't say, judge. 
You'll have to look around, I suppose, for the right article. 

Judge. [Nettled.] Look around ! That's very funny. Take 
care, you young rascal, I may double the money I'm going to 
give my girl, and if I do, and then have another talk with the 
lieutenant — who knows? 

Gen. [Sternly.] Allow me, Judge Van Ryker ; what do 
you mean by that ? 

Judge. [Embarrassed, confidentially.] It was only my 
fun, to frighten the young jackanapes. So many young- 
men nowadays make such a point of money. 

Gen. I think not, or, at least, I hope not. And as to my 
son — I am certain. Don't take it amiss if I am warm on this 
point, for this is the second time to-day that money, as a 
motive, has been imputed to us in connection with things we 
try to keep as far apart as possible from that hateful w 7 ord. 
Where our name is concerned, our hand, our honor, we are 
not accustomed to speak, or to think, of money. 

Judge. No offence, I hope. 

Gen. None, I hope. And now — will you excuse me for a 
little while ? A lady is waiting for me. [Exit, L. 

Judge. [To Benny.] Perhaps I was mistaken about these 
folks. Maybe it wasn't a question of money. I wouldn't 
want to be unjust to anybody. 

Ben. [Coolly.] You can't help it ; it's your way. Look 
how you treated me. 

Judge. [Apologetically?] But, my dear boy, we may be 
mistaken in a person. 

Ben. Not in me. You ought to have appreciated my 
merit at a glance. Your daughter did, and she's considerably 
younger than you are. But, of course, I wasn't distinguished 
enough for you. You wanted a future general in the family. 



THE KAIL ROAD OF LOVE. 



61 



Now you've got what you've been working for. But enough's 
been said. This is the last lecture you'll get from me. 
[Crosses, l.] Whatever you choose to give your daughter, I 
won't say another syllable. 

Judge. Well, there's no question of money now ! 

Ben. Certainly not. You've just said you'll double Viva's 
dowry — so there's an end to the matter. 

Judge. You young ! Oh, pshaw ! let's stop joking, 

and have a sensible word together. You loill make my daugh- 
ter happy ? 

Ben. [Stares at him.] I ? What have I to do with it ? 

Judge. Now don't look innocent. Do you want me to ask 
you to marry her? 

Ben. It wouldn't change my mind one bit if you did ; I 
have been wounded too deeply. I don't know how you can 
repair the injury you have done. 

Judge. [Indignant.] Why, man alive ! 

Ben. I didn't sleep the whole night. 

Judge. No, confound it. You kept me up half the night 
to keep you company. 

Ben. [Affected feeling .] Do you suppose I went home 
after that ! That I slept when I did go home ! With agony 
in my heart ? We had been so happy in our love ! [Sits and 
affects to weep.] 

Judge. But don't you see that I'm willing ? 

Ben. No, no, it's all over. [Going e.] Return home, 
and bear my farewell to your lovely child. I shall step in here 
for a while, and try to forget her. [Exit, e. 

Judge. I'm sorry to lose that young man ; he seems sincere. 
I don't know what to do. The evil one himself couldn't find 
his way out of my difficulties. [ Gets his hat, and is about to go 
as Scuttleby enter s from c. e.] 

Scuttleby. Ah, Judge, I've just had the privilege of pay- 
ing my respects to your charming daughter. 

Judge. My Viva ! Where ? 

Scut. At the window. She nodded to me very pleasantly 
from that room as I turned the corner. [Points to door, e.] 

Judge. My daughter ! in there ! And that young rascal ! 
[Runs to door, R.,just as it opens and Benny and Viva come 
out arm in arm.] This beats everything. You pair of hypo- 
crites ! 

Viva. [Bunning to him.] Why, papa, how good of you to 
send Benny to me. 

Benny. I have resolved to overlook all, sir. Make me 
happy. 



62 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Judge. [Separates them.'] Not so smart. [Takes Viva.] 
You come in here, miss, and let me talk to you a minute. 
| T/u y go into room, e.] 

Scut. [To Benny.] I suppose I may congratulate, eh ? 

Ben. You may. I've just given my consent to the father. 

Sod, Such a lovely girl ! How did you capture the prize? 

Ben. Easiest thing in the world. It only requires a grace- 
ful transition from any object — say this armless Hermes of 
Praxiteles — to the subject nearest your 

Judge. [Appears in door-way, b.] Will you step in here 
a moment, young man ? 

Ben. [To Scuttleby] You hear ! he can't live without me. 
Coming, papa. [To Judge, in door.] Oh, what a happy life 
we'll lead together. [Exit with Judge, r. 

Scut. [Examines bust on pedestal.] A graceful transition 
from this object to a successful declaration. I don't quite see 
the sense of it — but it's worth trying. 

Grinnidge. [Enters, l. d., with hat in hand, talking back 
as he enters.] Well, I'm glad it's settled. Don't stir. Thank 
you ; I'll find my way out. 

Scut. Hullo ! you here ? 

Grin. Yes. Just settling up a little business w T ith Cousin 
Eutycia. [Confidentially.] 1 say, Scuttleby, you are not 
too late for that train yet. [Scuttleby makes a gesture of 
disgust with Gbinnidge.] Honor bright, old chap, your 
case isn't hopeless in that quarter. Do you know what that 
woman means to do for you ? 

Scut. No, what ? 

Grin. She intends to offer you the management of her 
country-property. Pays well ; but you'll have to give up city- 
life a good part of the year and live on the place. 

Scut. [Enthusiastically.] That woman's too good for 
earth ! Live on the place — why shouldn't I live on it, if I'm 
going to live off it ? Especially if she's to live in it. 
[Crosses, l.] 

Grin. With your knowledge of the world, you ought to 
be of great use. I believe she's been robbed right and left. 
Now, for instance, she's about to buy a property that's ad- 
mirably fitted for grape-culture. She could get it for half the 
money — but she pays what's asked, because it's valuable to 
her. I was afraid every minute she'd tell the seller what she 
wanted it for, and that he'd raise his price. 

Scut. [Finger to nose.] Just wait till I get my fist in 
there. [Sighs.] Ah, Grinnidge, if I could only make up for 
my blunder this afternoon. What an ass I was ! and she isn't 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



63 



old at all. On the contrary, she has just got rid of that youth- 
ful giddiness that we sensible men abominate. As I was as- 
sisting her out of the carriage she gave me her hand — it's a 
small hand, too, and she just unconsciously gave mine a 
squeeze. Do you know, I almost couldn't let it go ? 

Grin. [Pats him on the shoulder, encouragingly.] It'll 
be all right again. Take charge of her property first, and 
then she may give you herself to take care of. I wouldn't be 
surprised if, in years to come — say on your silver-wedding — 
you'd recall this very moment and say: He was right after all 
— she's the woman for me ; and it was all his doing — old Adam 
Grinnidge's doings. 

Scut. [Seizes his hand.] Heaven bless him ! [Slaps his 
shoulder as he embraces him,] You dear old boy ! 

Grin. Now brace up. Fix yourself a little. [Takes a 
rose out of his own button-hole and decorates Scuttleby.] 
I'll order a bouquet and send it with your card. 

Scut. [Trying to get away. Gently.] Oh, pshaw ! 

Grin. I only return your attentions, don't you remember? 
when you advised me to avoid the owl-train, and take the ex- 
press. [Takes a long bottle of Cologne from his pocket, and 
sprinkles Scuttleby. Scuttleby retreats.] 

Scut. Oh, I say — hold up — I acknowledge ! 

Grin. [Replacing bottle in his pocket^] Do you know, my 
wife prophesied this match all along ? She always said that 
Eutycia was just the romantic old girl for you. 

Scut. How does your wife know I want a romantic old 
girl ? 

Grin. Oh, she remembers you, years ago, at Saratoga — 
one moonlight night, at the springs. 

Scut. [Dismayed^] Was that your wife ? [Shakes Grin- 
nidge's hand.] Give her my regards. 

Grin. With pleasure. [Going.] Now, don't be down- 
hearted. Put on your boldest. Pitch in — pitch in and win. 

[Exit, c. r. 

Scut. Ah, if I looked as I did then ! [Goes to mirror, 
and runs his hands through his hair.] Of course, if one 
pries too closely, it is just a little — but inside ! [Slaps his 
chest and comes down.] I'm all spring and moonlight yet. 
[The General enters, \,.,with Mrs. Laburnam.] By Jove ! 
she's here. 

General. [Speaking to Mrs. Laburnam, as they enter.] 
Why not wait here until Mr. Grinnidge returns ? 

Scut. [Advances^] My dear Mrs. Laburnam — general, 
good evening. [To Mrs. Laburnam.] I've heard of your 



64 



THE KAILROAD OF LOVE. 



very kind intentions regarding my unfortunate circumstances, 
and I can only say that I accept with all my heart. 

3Irs. Laburnam. Shall we really try how we can get along ? 

Scut. You'll be astonished in me. [Confidentially.] Wait 
till you see me out yonder on your ranch. I've got a pair of 
long boots and a cowboy's hat — and I'll grow a big beard, 
and get a long whip — and there I am for you. 

Gen. I suppose the outfit is all the qualification necessary ? 

Scut. Oh, of course, a fellow needs a thorough knowledge 
of the land — but I'll pick that up as I go along. All that's 
really wanted is a keen eye, and a long head. For instance, 
I understand we are going to buy a piece of property now. 
I propose to look at it myself before we close. We sha'n't be 
humbugged if I can help it. 

Gen. [Amused.'] Very proper. 

Mrs. L. [ Apprehensively.] But, Mr. Scuttleby 

Scut. No, no, it's a part of my duties. You are too soft. [ To 
General.] She's going to pay the fellow the price he asks 
— I'll squeeze him. [ Winks at both.] 

Gen. [Scune.] 1 would. [Mrs. Labubnam goes up.] 

Scut. I will. It's no business of his to know that the prop- 
erty is worth to us for grape-raising just double what he asks 
— is it ? She needn't tell him — need she ? 

Gen. [Laughs.] No, no ; and you needn't, either. 

Mrs. L. [Throws up her hands and sinks in seat } c] Oh, 
you poor, dear wool-head ! 

Scut. Oh, I'm business all over, when I am business. Who 
is the beggar, anyway ? Tell me. I must see him at once. 

Gen. You may. I am the mendicant. 

Scut. [Horrified.] You ! What ? [Sits crushed, as he 
gazes at Mrs. Labuexam.] I see, I'm a failure at the start. 
[To General.] I offer my abject apology. 

Gen. [Detains him.] Don't go. [To Mrs. Laburxam.] 
We won't cancel our contract on account of this little incident, 
will we ? 

Mrs. L. [Gives him her hand.] Certainly not. My 
word's my bond. 

Gen. I thought so. [ Whispering to Scuttleby.] Stay 
here — I'll give you a chance to recover. [Bows to Mrs. La- 
bubnam.] Excuse me, if I return to lock up the documents. 
[Exit, L.J 

Mrs. L. [After a short pause, in which Scuttleby 
evinces his uneasiness and sense of failure.] Well, how do 
you feel ? 

Scut. Oh, I am disgusted with myself ; I just swelled up 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



65 



with vanity at the idea of being of some use, and now I'm col- 
lapsed. It's all up. I'm floored. [She smiles, and shakes her 
head.] What, don't you think so ? 

Mrs. L. Your intention was good. That's all I look at. 

Scut. [Overjoyed.'] And you don't — really? [She gives 
him her hand; he kisses it, and looks at it as it rests in 
his own.] Number five and three-quarters ! my favorite size ! 
My dear Mrs. Laburnam, are you of such an angelic disposition 
that you can pass over that scene of this afternoon ? I meant 
well, then, too. In your presence, I wanted to disparage 
every other woman. 

Mrs. L. You don't deserve to have me do so, but I remem- 
ber the days when we were younger. 

. Scut. When I was a major. 

Mrs. L. When you were a minor, and you were a tolerable 
boy. Here's my hand. [Gives it.] 

Scut. You're a lovely woman ! [Tucks her arm under 
his.] And now tell me about the country. How's life there ? 

Mrs. JO. Between you and me, dulness is no name for it. 

Scut. You poor soul ! A woman like you, so fond of fun ! 

Mrs. L. But now I've got a new manager for the estate, I 
shall have something to make me laugh. 

Scut. [Pretending not to understand?^ A new manager, eh 
— what kind of a fellow is he ? 

3frs. L. Oh, one of the blundering kind that always amuses. 

Scut. That's a recommendation. 

Mrs. L. And besides, he was the best partner in an old- 
fashioned highland fling I ever danced with. 

Scut. Eh? [Laughs.] You remember? Ah! [She 
nods. lie hums a fling. She laughs. They davice a few 
steps to each other.] I hope your new manager hasn't for- 
gotten that dance. 

Mrs. L. Just think — I found an old ball-card of mine the 
other day, with his name written six times on it. 

Scut. The rascal must have wanted you as a partner for 
life. 

Mrs. L. I haven't the vanity to think that. 

Scut. [Forgetting for a moment.] Oh, I bet he'll rouse 
the whole country before he's been with you a month. You'll 
be inviting all the neighbors, give balls, have receptions. 
Oh, he won't blunder there ! That's his line. 

Mrs. L. [Sighs. Sits, n., and picks up a book, turning over 
the leaves.] Ah, but it can't be. What would people say ? A 
single woman — a widow ! 

Scut. [Aside.] Now's my time. [Aloud.] What would 
5 



66 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



they say? They'd say — why on earth don't those two fools 
get married ? 

Mrs. L. [Rises and retreats.'] Oh, I won't have another 
word. 

Scut. [Sinks into chair on which he had just knelt to make 
//is proposal.] She's off the hook. If I only knew how to 
land her. [Looks at the bust of Hermes.'] What did that 
young- chap say about transitions? I'm hanged if I know. 
I'll try, though. [Aloud, rising.] Nicely furnished house, 
this. 

Mrs. I. [Piqued.] Yes ; so, so. 

Scut, Lovely pictures ! rather good figure, that. Hermes. 
1 believe ; by Praxiteles, isn't it ? Did you notice it ? 
Mrs. L. [Indifferent.] No. 

Scut, I don't seem to strike a chord ! [Aloud.] You 
don't see any transition about it ? 

Mrs. I. What ? [Indifferent^ No. 

Scat. No. [Aside.] Neither do I. [Aloud, after going 
nearer the figure.] Don't it occur to you that he looks as if 
he was going to say something — make a declaration, for in- 
stance ? 

Mrs. I. No. [^4s£c?e.] What's the goose trying to say ? 

Scut. [Aloud.] What's that he's got on his shoulder? A 
hand ! [Aside.] I wonder if there's any transition in the 
hand. [Aloud.] Going to offer his hand, eh? 

Mrs. I. [looks at it contemptuously.] It's a baby's hand. 
I don't admire fragments. 

Scut. Fragments ! 

Mrs. L. How can he offer his hand when he hasn't an 
arm ? [Turns away.] 

Scut. That's a fact. What a pity he has no arms. Sup- 
pose he wanted to hug anybody, now. [Aside, struck by an 
idea.] Hug ! I've got a transition now. [Aloud.] My 
dear Mrs. Laburnam ! if this poor fellow, as you see him, 
were in my place, and were dead in love with you, and wanted 
to clasp you in his arms, and couldn't for obvious reasons — just 
imagine his feelings. 

Mrs. L. I can't possibly see why you keep worrying your- 
self about Hermes. You've certainly got arms. 

Scut. [Joyfully.] I have, and if I dared 

Mrs. I. But you wouldn't dare 

Scut. Wouldn't I? [He advances ; she holds him off.] 

Mrs. I. This is a declaration, I declare 

Scut. [Energetically .] It is. What do you say to it ? 

Mrs. I. I say — I say you've taken your time about it. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



67 



Scut. Then now we'll take each other — in time and for all 
time. [About to kiss her, when the voice of Grinnidge is 
heard; they fly apart.] 

Grinnidge. [Speaks outside.] " Thank you, I'll go up 
alone." As Grinnidge enters from r. c, the General enters 
from l., to meet him, carrying some legal papers in his hand.] 
Now, cousin, are you ready ? 

Scut. [Takes Mrs. Laburnam's hand.] We are ready, 
and I tell you, gentlemen, you had better hurry up. 

Mrs. L. Hush ! 

Grin. Why ? 

Scut. Why ? Because if you delay too long there'll be 
no Mrs. Laburnam to sign. 

General and Grin. [Half -alarmed.] No ! 

Scut. [Introducing her.] But there'll be a Mrs. Phenix 
Scuttleby, who possibly may. [To Grinnidge, aside, as Gen- 
eral goes to shake hands with Mrs. Laburnam.] How's that 
for the lightning-express ? 

Mrs. L. [To General.] I had to, the good-for-noth- 
ing ! [Exit loith General, who returns after seeing her to 
door, l.] 

Scut. Wish me joy. [Holds out a hand to both.] 
Grin. Is it done ? 

Scut. Is it done ? Don't you see her fly and leave me in 
possession of the field, victorious ? [They slap him on the 
back and laugh.] Oh, we'll celebrate this ! Sha'n't we — 
sha'n't we make a night of it ? Well, I guess not. [Sadde?i- 
ly.] No, no ! I forgot — I've reformed. [They laugh, ironi- 
cally.] But I don't go back on the old fun, oh, no. You 
make a night of it, and tell me all about it to-morrow. [Exit 
l. Grinnidge exits r. c. As the General is going off, he is 
met by Tom, who enters and pauses, c] 

Gen. Well, what is it ? has my son come in ? 

Tom. No, sah. [Slight pause.] 

Gen. Well, what is it ? 

Tom. There's a lady, sah, called to see you. 

Gen. What's her name ? 

Tom. She only done tole me to say a lady. 

Gen. I'll step down and see her. [Makes a step toward 
door, when Valentine enters, c. r., veiled. Tom exits. She 
looks after him, then turns to General, and throws back her 
veil] 

Valentine. [Breathless.] General Everett ! 
Gen. [A?nazed.] Mrs. Osprey ! you here ? [ With 
forced calmness.] I must acknowledge that after your letter 



68 



tin: railroad of love. 



I do not understand why I, or mine, should be honored by a 
visit from you. 

Ved. Oh, I know how angry you ought to be with me, but 
listen, only for one moment. A fatal misunderstanding — an 
impulse I cannot describe — forced the pen into my hand, and 
now I am here, overwhelmed with shame and contrition, to beg 
you to forgive me. 

Gen. [Still reserved.'] Nothing more is needed, madam ; 
your apology is quite sufficient. 

Val. I thank you. 

Gen. [Holds out letter to her.'] As far as you and I are 
concerned, let us consider the incident as if it had not hap- 
pened. 

Veil. \Ifiagerly.~\ And you will never speak to your son of 
my letter ? [Offering her hand.'] 

Gen. [In severe tone, and withholding letter.] My son ! 

Val. [Ingenuously.] Yes ; he mustn't know anything 
about it. 

Gen. Pardon me if I do not comprehend, /am the only 
person who has seen the letter ; you ask for it, it is yours. 
How is my son concerned with it after that ? 

Ved. [Hesitates.] You don't understand ? [Timidly^] 
What do you want me to explain ? It's — all right now. 
[Smiling and J -altering.] Isn't it ? 

Gen. What is all right ? 

Val. Why, what was all wrong. 

Gen. Your explanation explains nothing. 

Ved. But I can't say it to you. It was this way. After I 
wrote that letter — to him, and you had no business with it, but 
I know it was directed blindly, so I overlook that. 

Gen. [Smiles grimly.] Humph ! 

Val. Yes. Then he came to see me : we had a conversation, 
— oh, how cruel of you to force me to tell you. — He loves me, 
I love him, and I dare not let him know what I thought of 
him in my heart only a moment before. 

Gen. I understand perfectly now. You believe that you 
love him, and yet you would charge him with such base- 
ness. I do not know what to think of the love which 
burns, and dies out, and flames again in a day. Had your 
love been even as great as mine you would have trusted 
him in the face of proof itself. Yet, I am only his father, 
and you are willing to become his wife. I do not believe in 
that love. 

Val. You shall believe in it. I will atone for my error ; only 
this once forgive me. He must not know what I have done. 



THE EAILROAD OF LOVE. 



60 



He would despise me. You have offered to give me that let- 
ter, give me your promise too. 

Gen. I owe my son the truth — and so do you, ten times 
more. Whatever be the pain, whatever the outcome — tell him 
now. 

Val. If this is your last word 

Gen. {Interrupting her.] It is my only word. 
Val. So be it. 

Gen. [Tendering the letter.'] You will tell him ? 

Val. [Putting it away from her by a icave of the ha?id.] 
No, I leave that for you. Show him the letter, and say to him 
that the woman who wrote it will never see him again. I 
leave you to settle the account with your conscience. 

Gen. [ Worried, and going aside.] No, no, I won't take 
the responsibility if it's going to break everything off 

Val. [Calmly.] It will. 

Gen. It need not. If he loves you, it will be all right. 
If you tell him, it's a different thing from my telling. [She 
is about to go.] Don't go, we must reason this thing out. 
Let's sit down. Come, my dear, sit by me. [lie sits, but she 
does not stir, and stands with her back to audience, wiping her 
eyes.] You know that I like you, that I always liked you. 
Val. No. [Positively, but quietly and toith quivering voiced 
Gen. Yes, I did, and it gives me the greatest pleasure to 
think that you are going to marry my son — my only son — 
whom I love — [ With faltering tones.] — and whom I respect. 
[Moved by his words, she kneels impulsively at his feet. At 
the same moment Howell appears in door-toay at back, hold- 
ing his father's letter in his hand.] That's right. [Smooth- 
ing her hair.] We both want his happiness and his honor 
secure. You know I never wished him to marry a rich 
woman. 

Val. There's no fear of that now. 

Gen. [Misunderstanding.] Now don't be foolish. You 
must have him. 

Val. But if I do, I lose my fortune — that is the will. 

Gen. Oh, why didn't you say so ? So you give up every- 
thing for my boy ? 

Val. He gives up everything for me. 

Gen. And he knows ? 

Val. Yes. That is what I found out after I wrote the letter. 
Gen. Oh ! thafs what was all right ? 

Val. Yes ; you see, before that I thought 

Gen. What was all wrong. I begin to understand. 
Here is your letter. [She is about to take it.] And now, 



70 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



give me mine ; mine was as bad as yours. We must de- 
stroy them both. 

Val. \ didn't bring it with me — 1 

Gen. J hope you haven't lost it. 

Howell. [Advancing icith letter.] No, sir, it is here. 
[ The if start. Howell ouietly j w esses his father's shoulder, and 
motions Valentine not to go.] Pardon me for disobeying — 
vou know ? One, two, three — and a cross ! I kept at work 
for a long while, but on looking for a cross, one time, I saw 
this on the floor. [Gives letter to the General, tcho puts it 
in his pocket with A he other instantly.'] I thought 1 knew the 
dear old hand — [Pats Jus father on the shoulder.] — and sus- 
pected that you — [To Valentine.] — had come here. As I had 
something to tell him, too. I thought this was the time and 
place to do it. 

Val. [Apprehensively.] You know why /came? 

Howell. Oh, yes, I've been listening ! 

Val. And what are you going to say to me ? 

Howell. Nothing. [Smiles, and turns to his father.] But 
to you, sir, let me recall our agreement. I was to come and 
tell you when it was really serious with me. It's serious now. 
[His father grasps both /tis ha?ids, and Valentine moves 
away, agitated. He goes to her and takes her hand.] I have 
the honor to present to you, the lady w T ho has promised to 
become my wife. I know you will love her as well as you 
love me. 

Val. I'm not at all sure about that. 

Howell. I am. If I can read what's in his eye at this 
moment, he'd mam* you himself, if I didn't. Wouldn't you, 
general ? 

Gen. Yes, lieutenant. [Clasps Valentine in his arms.] 

Scuttlbby enters with Mrs. Laburnam, followed by Grin- 
nidge. 

Mrs. Labumam. Why, Valentine ! 
ScutUeby. [To Howell.] What's up ? 
Gen. [Presenting Valentine.] Permit me. My son's 
future wife. 

Scut. [Excited, to Valentine.] You are going to be 
married ? 

Val. Yes, cousin, and you will be a milliornaire. 
Scut. That's so, if — [To Mrs. Laburnam.] I see, you 
married me for my money. Oh, I'm a catch ! 
Mrs, Laburnum. [Frankly.] Call it off. 
Scut. Not for two millions. We'll all be married on the 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



71 



same day, but you and I will be tied up first. Then the for- 
tune remains with Cousin Val. That's the will : if I'm married 
when she marries, I get nothing. But I don't care. I'll have 
you — that's a million of itself any day. 

Mrs. L. I could hug you for that. \_They go up as Viva 
and Benny enter, r., folloioed by Judge Van Rykee.] 

Viva. Why, who's here ? [Runs to Valentine.] You 
darling, congratulate me ! 

Val. Congratulate me. 

Scut. Congratulate me. 

Mrs. L. And me. [All crowd together in two groups, one 
composed of the ladies, the other formed by the gentlemen. 
Judge Van Ryker comes forward to the General.] 

Judge. [Timidly?^ I didn't intend to make use of your 
house, general, for my own family business, but as a compli- 
cation arose in it, I thought it the best plan to straighten it 
out on the spot. 

Gen. I'm quite happy to afford you a spot. 

Judge. [Pointing to Viva and Benny.] They're going to 
be married. 

Gen. Accept my felicitations. 

Viva. [Bursts from group and runs impulsively to her 
father.] Papa, they're going to be married. 
Judge. Who? 

Viva. Cousin Val and Lieutenant Everett. 
Judge. [To General.] And was that settled on this spot 
too ? 

Scut. [Coming down with Mrs. Laburnam.J Yes, and 
this was settled here too. 

Grinnidge. [To Judge] They're going to get married, 
and I'm going to get my money. 

Judge. Why, it's in the air, or in the house. Gad, if I 
stay here, I may get married too. 

Gen. [Aside.] We are probably safe anywhere. 

Grin. You wouldn't be if there was a single woman left. 
I think we're in Hymen's excursion-train this time. 

Scut. No, sir ; no Excursion-train about this. There are 
no return-tickets. 

Sen. I have an idea ! Let's all get married together. 

Howell. And immediately separate. 

All. Oh, oh! What? 

Howell. I mean, go off in different directions — each couple 
together. 

All. But why ? why ? 

Scut. It would be too much happiness for one train. 



THE RAILROAD OF LOVE. 



Vol. 

The elder poets to sing were fain 

Of what they pictured Hymen's train. 

Mrs. L. 

A slow-coach travel that, I vow, 
For love's express we go by, now. 

Scut. 

No more months of wooing, sighing, 
Feigning, weeping, crying, dying. 

Howell. 

No longer dragging passion through 
The months that once it took to woo. 

Veil. 

Love travels now at lightning's pace, 
Nor stops at "crossings" in the race. 

Viva. 

Is there no danger ? 

Ben. 

Not in speed ! 
The track is ever smooth and straight, 
'Tis only when the coupling breaks, 
Or we switch off, we seal our fate. 

Howell 

The course of true love ne'er runs smooth, 
Says gentle Shakspere, our good master. 

Val. 

That's so ; but now, it runs much faster. 
A moment sees the start begun, 
A day may find the course is run.* 
To Hymen's Junction all are sped, 
With "fifteen minutes' " stop to wed. 
You'li reach the place by many a train, 
The "money," the "pride," and "hope of gain 
But you'll not be happy nor safe, unless 
The train you take is Love's ExrRESS. 



THE 

RAILROAD 

OF 

LOVE 

A COMEDY EST FOUR ACTS 

(From (he German of Sckcmthan and Kadelburg) 

BY 

AUGUSTIN DALY 

Acted for the First Time at Daly's Theatre, New York, 
Tuesday, November 1, 1887 



privately printed for the author 
as manuscript only 



^ v* x - 



